#bc this is the first time I’ve sewn anything in my life

[amerillo342]

feelin really good today despite everything, now let’s hope my sewing skills hold up and that the button holding this entire shirt together doesn’t fall off

[littlemisslipbalm]

I live in the neighbourhood

When Y/N moved to Hampstead she was unaware of the implications the decision would have on the course of the rest of her life.

or

Harry is Y/N’s eccentric neighbour who sweeps her up in the whirlwind that is his life

this gif bc its maybe my favorite clip of him EVER holy fuck - this is the harry of my dreams this is the harry of i live in the neighbourhood

HEY YALL it’s been a minute and I missed yall so much and I’m just about to be on break so maybe i’ll be back to posting writing regularly but with school its so hard and I think I’ve been working on this for months so yeah <3 lol PLS PLS PLS leave me feedback and reblogs and that stuff bc otherwise my writing just feels...empty and you have no idea the smile i get when even just the tags say like “god this was everything” it can be anything honestly but it keeps my passion up. Thank you again and hope you enjoy.

Word Count: ~10k | Warnings: swearing probably? no smut (yet), rich and famous harry - mentions of Taylor Swif 

-

She considered herself an average young woman in her mid twenties. She liked screaming Taylor Swift and Megan Thee Stallion songs alone in her car and thrifting on weekends. She hated cable because of commercials and when doordash didn’t deliver all of her order. She had asthma when she worked out or the air quality was bad. She had dumb celebrity crushes that her friends and her still laughed over with every new instagram post. She had hopes and dreams she had yet to achieve and she had past trauma that many would never know about, especially at first glance.

Sure, she was successful. She would admit that. How else would she be able to afford even the modest little house she had found in Hampstead? She had studied international business in college and hopped on a plane to London the first chance she got. After a few years of a more than decent paycheck and an advantageous stimulus check from her kind parents, she was able to move out of her starter flat into the suburbs. The definitive push for the move was two-fold. Her parents wanted her to take her dog and her apartment complex was strict on no pets. Then her promotion at work - which included a pay raise - made it hard to wave off taking full ownership of her childhood ten-pound best friend.

So with life happening as it usually does, Y/N first found herself scouring Zillow, then touring homes in the area, and finally standing outside a three bedroom, two bath, two-story cream house in Hampstead. Her house.

The little moving truck she had rented sat beside her as she stared at her future. The realtor had told her they would be there in ten minutes. For the next ten minutes all Y/N had to do was keep herself from combusting, or worse, sobbing.

She felt overwhelmed already. Renting a flat in London was one way to describe herself as independent. Owning a home in Hampstead seemed like a whole new level of adulthood she wasn’t sure if she was prepared for.

After taking a few deep breaths to ground herself, Y/N walked up to the gate that kept her front yard narrowly separated from the sidewalk. She lifted one hand from beneath the box she clutched tightly to her chest to push past the iron-rod gateway. The garden was cute, a little bland, and she thought to herself that maybe she’d develop some gardening skills now that she had her own front yard. The thought made her smile a little, refraining from laughing aloud while on her lonesome, since she had never taken interest in gardening before. But this house. This house. It was a new beginning. It was a fucking unwritten journal. Blank film. Unknown territory. She could be anyone in this house.

She gently placed the cardboard box on the first step up to the front door. There was no porch, but she couldn’t complain. It was gorgeous and she was lucky to get it at the price she did. The house was cream with dark blue accents and a grey shingled roof. Lots of windows. It was classic and it was hers.

After the realtor came with her keys and made sure everything seemed alright, Y/N’s couple of friends, Amélie and Daniel, arrived with their cars filled with items she had needed picking up from various stores. They helped her move her stuff into the house. Thankfully it was already half furnished, meaning she didn’t have to go out and buy beds or couches or any of those big items that are both expensive and a hassle to deal with.

By the time the evening had rolled around, everything was in the house and it actually seemed semi put together. Y/N looked around, sweat apparent on her face and hands on her hips, proud of what she had accomplished. The nerves from earlier had been drowned by pride.

-

The next day, she woke up from her first night in the house. It felt like a dream even though she was sure she was awake.  

She had to navigate her way to the airport today to pick up her dog from his long flight and then mainly settle into the house. Her house sat on Sherwood Avenue, one of the many streets in Hampstead. It’s neighboring houses were much larger. The ones directly next to and across from her weren’t drastically bigger but what she had yet to learn was that next to the house across from her there were two houses that had been joined together by their slightly eccentric owner. A man who would be the match that ignited the flame that was the rest of her life.

This unknown fact quickly became known after Y/N’s first few weeks in her new neighbourhood. The eccentric - more so absurdly rich - neighbor who conjoined the houses was Harry Styles.

The first time they crossed paths she wasn’t even aware of it. It was the day she moved in. He had been out for his usual morning run and was rounding the corner when she had pulled up in her moving van. Once inside his home, he snoopily watched on as his neighbour began to move in. He hadn’t taken note of much about her, just that she was new and that she had a nice pair of jeans on that day.

The second time, Y/N was convinced she needed to get her eyes checked because there was no way that she had just seen Harry Styles key himself into the house across the way from her. There was no way that she had moved into the same area as him, let alone the same street. It seemed far more plausible that she needed a psych evaluation or a strong glasses prescription.

But the third instance of them crossing paths, she was proven wrong. She was on her way back from the neighbourhood park when she saw a guy jogging towards her. With a yellow beanie and a black Columbia sweatshirt paired with running shorts and shoes, he was hard to ignore running straight towards her. The iconic curls, strong jawline, and soft green eyes were dead giveaways this time. After making brief eye contact as their paths literally crossed, she felt herself make a little face of odd interest. Her head quirked and her eyes narrowed, lips pursed with slight confusion. That was definitely him.

After that, she found herself seeing Harry around the neighbourhood a relatively good amount. She’d see him at the park, at the coffee shop, on their street, and more. They didn’t speak. She really didn’t think he would want to be bothered by his neighbours and she certainly wasn’t willing to test the theory. They sometimes gave a small smile of acknowledgement but nothing really friendly. Just ‘you exist and I know that’.

-

Fridays are Y/N’s favorite day. It’s the beginning of the weekend, she never has to go into work and it’s simply a nice day. People are happier, they smile brighter and it just seems like the world is a little better than usual.

Friday was especially amazing today because her childhood best friend, Cate, was arriving at London Heathrow in the evening. Y/N had begged Cate to fly out to see the new house in person and Cate had finally found the time to run away to England for a week.

She shut her front door carefully behind her and placed her headphones in her ears. Rori, that little terrier, who had made a similar flight to see Y/N’s place not too long ago, scampered out the door with her and jumped happily at her legs as she fiddled with her phone. Her coat ruffles around her disturbed from the morning air. It’s blanket-like fabric that consisted of a deep blue backdrop with felt giraffes sewn on it, kept her warm while she walked. With her mind racing with weekend plans and ideas for her and Cate to do both in Hampstead and the city, she crossed the street like usual and began to walk with her dog to the coffee shop for her morning tea.

Unlike usual, she fumbled just as she was putting her phone in her pocket and bumped into something large and definitely not sedentary.

“I’m so sorry!” She blushed and moved backwards from the man who had just been shutting his own front gate to head somewhere.

“S’alright. No harm, no foul.” He looks down at her and her dog. Rori seems excited by the stranger and sniffs him eagerly. A single paw prodding at the man’s long leg.

She grimaces, hearing the voice and stepping back allows her to fully recognize who she had just bumped into. Her neighbour. The runner. Harry Styles.

“Sorry.” She mutters again as Rori continues to prod at Harry’s leg.

She tries to coax Rori away, but Harry simply smiles and leans down to the small dog.

“Hi there buddy,” he coos and rubs the top of the fluffy dogs head, in between his pointy ears, “What’s your name?”

“Rori.” She states easily, Harry’s eyes flickering to her smoothly. Rori makes a smile babbling noise that sounds a bit like a tiny roar - hence the name - and Harry chuckles to himself.

“He’s really adorable,” he finally says and straightens up from his admiring of the dog.

The grimace becomes more of a smile on her face and she mumbles a “Thank You”.

As her neighbour - who hasn’t introduced himself (which wasn’t necessary, but still) or bothered to ask for her introduction - seems to be about to say something new when his phone begins to vibrate obnoxiously. He twitches, his large hands immediately going to his pockets for the important device. He checks the message and looks back at her face.

“Sorry, I have to run...um,” he’s not sure what to say. He really does have to go, but he doesn’t even know his neighbour’s name. He’ll have to make sure to get it at some point in the near future. Especially now that he’s acquainted with her dog.

“No worries,” she smiles completely this time, relieved for the whole interaction to be over. She felt like she was going to explode with each passing moment. In the presence of a legendary musician, c’mon, who wouldn’t be freaking out. All she could think about was how Harry Styles now knew her dog’s name. What the fuck!

-

Upon arriving at the airport, she waited patiently for Cate to walk out of the customs area.

When she did, the two young women began jumping up and down excitedly, Y/N squealing only slightly. They hugged and began chattering intensely, catching up on lost time that generally occurs when you live an ocean apart.  

Finally, one comment rings through the constant back and forth and Cate stops.

“Wait, what did you just say,” she questions as they begin walking to catch an uber back to Hampstead.

“I think my house might be haunted?” Y/N’s voice raising because she’s unsure if that’s what Cate was talking about.

“No, no, the thing after that. I think I must’ve misheard you.”

“Harry Styles is my neighbour?” Y/N’s brows raise as she looks over at her best friend, curious to know what she will say.

“Yes! Explain. Now!”

“It’s not really a big deal. It’s a nice neighbourhood, it makes sense that celebrities of his caliber want to live there.”

“That is not explaining. You have to introduce us!”

As they climb into their uber and settle in for the short ride back to Hampstead, Y/N sighs and tells Cate everything she knows.

“We’ve only just spoken today and I’ve been here for a couple weeks. He lives across the street and down one, I guess. I just see him around, it’s not like he knows who I am. He didn’t even get my name today, just Rori’s.” She laughs lightly, still finding it funny that Harry knows her dog’s name.

Cate nods, leaning in slightly to her best friend, hardly able to contain her awestruckness from the story and baffledness at Y/N’s calmness. “So, like, when do I get to meet him?”

“Girl, I don’t fucking know. Never, if you’re going to act wild. I don’t want the neighbourhood to think I’m not chill.”

“Sometimes…” Cate starts and leans away from Y/N jokingly, “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

They both smile, bumping elbows silently. The song on the radio fading in louder as their words die out.

-

The next day, Y/N took Cate to the local park. It was expansive and connected to the football fields that local teams would play at. The park section was a luscious green that was maintained with copious amounts of watering by the township.

She and Cate settled on a patch of grass near a slender tree that would offer some shade if the sun’s rays became too harsh. The quilt they sat on was something her grandmother had made her when she was maybe 8 years old, meaning it was torn in places and completely worn in a different shade of pink than it had been initially.

They set up their picnic and played music, enjoying the sunny day. Something rare and fleeting as the fall began to creep up on Hampstead.

They eat and catch up on life for about an hour. Basking in the sunlight, Y/N had laid on her back and was staring up at the clouds passing along the sky. Cate was carefully watching their surroundings, simply taking in her friend’s new home, but possibly for another reason too.

“Hey, isn’t that…” Cate trails off, trying to subtly nod in the direction of an approaching figure.

Y/N sits up, her hands holding her up from behind her. Her hair fails in front of her shoulders slightly and it’s a little disheveled from being mused in the grass. She looks discreetly in the direction of Cate’s nodding and then looks at her friend and rolls her eyes.

“Yes, but don’t say anything, he might not even notice me and I’m certainly not calling out to him.”

‘Illicit Affairs’ by Taylor Swift is playing off her speaker and as she’s about to change it, Cate turns it up slightly. They share a glare with one another before trying to act casual again, even though both of their eyes kept flickering to the man who seemed to be continuing closer and closer to their set up.

It became clear that Harry was approaching them after all and Y/N tried to carry on an unbothered conversation with Cate, which was hard with the constant nudging of Cate’s foot on her shin.

He stops a mere foot away from their blanket, beaming at the two young women lounging on the ground. He makes an attempt at a casual wave, his large hand splaying his fingers quickly, before opening his mouth to speak.

Cate beats him to the punch. “Hello there!”

“Erm, hi!” He says nicely to her and then looks at Y/N.

“No Rori today?” He inquires.

“No,” she smiles, slightly blushing at the fact that he remembered her and her dog. “He’s napping.”

“Ah, I see,” He pauses, “I feel like I need to apologize.” He continues.

“For what?” She questions and Cate watches on anxiously, mesmerized by Harry and dying to see what happens next.

“I ran off before I could even ask for your name or introduce myself. It was terribly rude.”

“Oh,” she can’t stop smiling, “It’s nothing to apologize for, I’m sure you’re busy. Besides I had to get my day started, otherwise I would’ve been late picking her up.” She points to Cate who smiles sheepishly, still internally screaming over the fact that her friend is able to talk so easily to a celebrity.

Harry nods and looks at Cate again, “Just visiting I take it then?”

She nods quickly, words escaping her. Y/N chuckles under her breath and swoops in to save her friend any embarrassment. “Cate’s my best friend and she’s been kind enough to take time out of her extremely busy life to come look at my new house.”

He hums, still standing a respectful distance from their set-up. “Nice to meet you, Cate,” he says very kindly. Then he laughs, but in a way that is like he’s beside himself. The two women both quirk their heads at him. Y/N squints her eyes slightly, trying to understand the guy she is talking to and connecting him with the man that is all over the news all of the time for his musical genius.

“Now I know your dog and best friend’s names but still not yours. At this point, I’m begging you to tell me.”

They all laugh and Y/N feels nervous for the first time since Harry had walked up.

“You first,” she smiles slyly.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but then go back to normal. Harry was very smart, she likely knew his name, but one, she was trying to be funny and two, she was also trying to be courteous. He preferred to introduce himself rather than just be told who he is, even if people already knew. It allowed him to maintain some normalcy.

“‘M Harry,” He says with a smile.

“Alright.” She says and then remains quiet.

Harry’s lips quirk up in a faint smile, amused at her expression.

“I thought it was a ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ type of situation or was I mistaken?” He finally asks when she remains silent still.

The two young women laugh and Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, both feeling flustered and completely in control at the same time.

“You weren’t mistaken, I was just thinking.” Then she pauses again and Cate thinks Harry is about to combust and Harry thinks he’s going to as well with all the anticipation that has been built up over his neighbor’s name, even though he was pretty sure he’d heard it in passing at one point or another but had forgotten quickly afterwards.

“It’s Y/N.”

Harry releases a facetious sigh of relief, “Oh thank god! Finally!” His words quickly turn into an infectious laugh that is paired with a shining smile and she feels like she’s swooning right then and there. The control has gone out the window and she’s taken with her neighbor. He’s wonderful in that moment and she forgets about Cate or the park or anything. It’s just Harry and how it seems like he’s smiling just for her.

“Now that I’ve gotten your name,” he smiles pointedly at her after his laughter has faded away. The smile doesn’t leave his face though, his eyes still crinkled, his dimples still showing.

She nods, encouraging him to continue. Cate feels like she’s watching a movie unfold in front of her and she wishes she could record the entire interaction.

“I can finally ask you, Y/N, where did you get that fabulous coat I saw you wearing yesterday?”

She twitches further upright, eyes bringing themselves directly inline with Harry’s gaze. “Oh,” she inhales, “The giraffe one, yeah?”

He nods.

“I got it from a Goodwill years ago. It’s some vintage company that used to only make sleepwear. I looked up the tag one time and it doesn’t exist anymore. Super cool, though. Wish I could buy more.”

“Yeah,” Harry says eagerly, even taking a step towards the women, “It was so intriguing. Maybe, if you didn’t mind of course -” he falters, losing his courage for a moment, “you could bring it over and my stylist could check it out. I would love something similar and I’m sure he could figure it out.”

She shrugs. It wasn’t crazy, especially not for Harry - she assumed. She was certain he often found things he liked but there was only one of them so he would just order his own. She couldn’t help the pride that was swelling inside her though it that moment. Harry Styles liking her jacket so much he asked where it was from and then wanting his stylist to look at it. She’d jump for joy when she was in the safety of her private home later tonight with Cate.

“One condition,” she says and Harry’s brows quirk amusedly at her.

“You are a very tit for tat person,” he muses.

“Fair’s fair,” she shrugs again and then looks around her quickly, “It’s simple so don’t get too worked up over it, buddy.”

He laughs slightly again and tries to figure out what she’s looking for. When she extends a scratched up, sticker-covered point and shoot film camera he smiles.

“Can you take a picture of Cate and I? It’s always just the two of us so we never have anyone to take pictures of us together.”

Harry grins at this and her sincere face. Cate is a little taken aback, because while it’s technically true, it’s not entirely factual. They have plenty of film pictures of them - maybe not recently though. And she wasn’t going to question Y/N right now. It seemed like she knew what she was doing.

Harry takes the camera and begins to look through the viewfinder. The women scoot closer together and Cate wraps her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. She leans in to press her cheek against her best friend. They smile up at the camera and Harry crouches slightly to get a better angle.

“Alright,” he mumbles, “Ready?...Cheese!”

Their smiles stay hung on their face as they listen for the click and when the faint sound befalls their ears, Cate laughs and Y/N pulls away. She reaches forward for the camera, her hand easily brushing Harry’s large one.

Their smiles meet each other and Cate can’t help but notice how they grow as the two of them look at one another.

“Thank you,” Y/N says sweetly and pulls back to retake her seat on the blanket.

Harry straightens up, his grin falling back into that signature smirk. “No problem.”

“So-” He begins but she cuts him off.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He clears his throat, feeling thrown off. “Yeah, sure. I guess next time I see you we can talk about when a good time would be for your jacket to come over?”

His voice raises at the end of his question a little more than usual, he’s trying to get her to bite, but she doesn’t seem like someone who is easily thrown off. He is trying to read her and she’s been completely cool the entire time. It’s intriguing. Even more so than the jacket, even though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it, it wasn’t really his focus when he walked across the park to her and Cate.

“Yep! It was nice finally meeting you Harry.”

He feels the cue to walk off and says his farewells. As he walks off, back on course to his intended destination, his head is filled with questions. Most important of them being when he would see her again.

Cate and Y/N watch him walk towards the football fields. They see him meet with a group of men and it seems like they’re there to practice or play a game. Y/N couldn’t be sure.

“He likes you!” Cate finally bursts out.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Stop trying to make me take the piss. That’s a fucking lie and you know it.”

“It’s not! He likes you and you obviously like him, I mean, but we been knew.”

“Having a crush on the famous Harry Styles when you’re 17 is different than me liking my neighbour Harry.”

“But you like him don’t you? He’s even better than he was when he was 19. Now he’s all grown up and established and more your style anyway.”

“Shut up! He could hear you.”

“He really couldn't, he's yards away, you’re just paranoid.” Cate continues to tease and ridicule her best friend over Harry and Y/N is just about ready to up and leave, but she also can’t help but laugh it off.

“I’m literally gonna kick you out if you keep talking,” Y/N says between laughs and the women feel like they’re back in high school losing their minds over the stupidest joke ever.

“Okay, fine. But all I have to say is I will hold this over you when you end up together.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, whatever. Just be prepared to wait forever because I can promise you Harry Styles and I are never ending up together.”

--

Two Weeks Later

Y/N walked to her door after hearing the doorbell ring and opened it to find her neighbour standing with his arm raised ready to knock.

“Hey, Harry,” She greeted easily, but not entirely sure why he was here.

They hadn’t really seen each other since their official meeting in the park. It hadn’t bothered her and it hadn’t really bothered Harry either. It seemed like they both had extremely busy lives that they didn’t plan on throwing out the window because they had said they would meet up at some point. She liked that.

Harry had come over because he finally had a break in his schedule and was hoping to talk about the jacket and anything else really. He was interested in getting to know her and he didn’t care to hide it.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go get a coffee or something?” He asked, leaning himself against her door frame now.

Her eyebrows raise and her eyes widen a little bit, not completely sure she heard him correctly.

“Right now?!” She asked incredulously.

She was wearing an oversized grey sweatshirt and black bike shorts that peaked out from underneath the sweatshirt hem. One of her socks was shoved around her ankle while the other was pulled up flat to touch the base of her calf. She didn’t think she was looking the most presentable at the moment. She had been basking in her day off by simply laying on the couch watching hours of Netflix.

He nods, his smile growing on his face. Her flustered expression only made him happier. She was always so nonchalant with him, he wanted to see her a little more antsy.

“Unless you’re busy,” he adds seriously, not wanting to bother her, just wanting to spend time with her.

“No, no. I’m not...I’m not busy. I just wasn’t expecting any plans where I would be required to go out in public. Let me just...um, come inside and then give me five minutes.”

“Sure,” Harry smiles again as he steps into her home.

Her smile is sheepish and much less genuine then the one Harry holds on his face as he takes in her abode. She tells him to make himself comfortable and then runs to her room to try and possibly fix her state in under five minutes.

She tears around her room, heaving off the frumpy sweatshirt and grabbing a long sleeve striped v-neck top she had hanging out half out of her hamper, a sign known to her that while it was clean enough to wear, if she happened to do laundry she should wash it. Slipping it over her head, she walks to her dresser and leans over to open the bottom drawer and unfolds a pair of dark wash oversized jeans. There’s no holes in them and she throws them on the bed so that she can slip out of her current pants. Next, onto the socks, she swaps out the current ones for a fresh black pair and finds her tortoise print boots to flick on. As she just about runs into her en suite bathroom, she zips the two boots up between steps. A quick comb through her hair, deodorant, two spritz of perfume, her eyelash curler and mascara and she’s running back to where Harry is waiting in her living room.

He blinks surprisedly at her promptness, usually giving people more time then what they say they need. She had indeed gotten ready in five minutes. He thought she looked breathtaking. And she felt like she was at a lack for breath in any case.

“It’s a bit cold out,” he glances to the window.

“Isn’t it always?” She smiles, finally catching her breath.

He chuckles and then nods, a smile appearing on his face as he feels a warmth in his chest at her wit.

“Ready?” He checks in.

She nods, grabbing a coat she kept hung by the door.

“Just the coffee shop down the way?” She inquires as they exit the house and she locks the door behind her.

Harry hums, waiting down a step for her to turn around and walk beside him. It was so strange to her, this felt all too normal with him. Like he was just a friend who had come to pick her up for coffee, her neighbor, nothing more.

“Did you hear the new season of the Crown is coming out soon?” Harry asks as they walk shoulder to shoulder (technically since her shoulder wasn’t in line with his).

“Really?” She looks at him, “I love that show!”

“Me too,” He looks at her and smiles happily.

“That’s amazing,” she breathes mostly to herself, half about the show and half about how Harry watches television and that he watches one of her favorite shows.

There’s silence. The brisk air pricking their cheeks as they walk down their street. Their puffs of breath create a slight mist of white ahead of them and then quickly dissipates.

Her eyes flit up to Harry’s chiseled jaw and face and she watches him as his eyes carefully and meaningfully take in his surroundings. Was it her turn to take a stab at conversation? It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence but she just wasn’t sure what was going on.

“You play football right?” She says finally as they turn onto the next street that would bring them closer to the café they both frequented.

She remembered seeing him there on several occasions. The tips he left were always overly generous, which she assumed you could do when you were exorbitantly rich. He always smiled when he ordered and knew the baristas by name. His order rarely differed and she hated to admit but she knew his two regulars. His actual “regular” was a 12 ounce black coffee, dark roast, no cream and no sugar. The other, his “I’ll actually have”, was a 16 ounce iced green tea, no cream and no sugar.

She couldn’t help that she was observant and that when ‘H’ was called at the bar she looked at what was pushed out, patiently waiting for him to come snatch it up with a smile and nod to the workers before he left. Sometimes he’d even smile at her over the lid of his drink as he exited the establishment. It was warm and inviting and she felt good about the twinkle in his eye that never seemed to waver no matter the day.

Now they were going there together and she’d have to pretend like she’d never noticed what he got as a drink.

He responds to her question with another glance at her and a simple “yes”. His hands shove into his pockets and one side of his pink lips quirk up. He continues, “I’m on a local team with some mates. We’re in a little competition with our league. The final match is coming up this Sunday actually...You should come.”

He says it so casually it almost doesn’t catch her off guard. Harry inviting her to his football game, maybe this was going to be her life now. Going to her neighbours football match. Going to Harry Styles’ football match.

“Sunday…” She sounds out, choosing to look out into the distance instead of at him. “What time?”

“Eight.”

“P.M. right?” She responds quickly, worried since she never wakes up that early and rarely before 10 a.m. on the weekends for that matter.

“Of course,” he chuckles.

They’ve come upon the café and he’s quick to grab the handle to open the door and let her go before him. She can’t stop the blush and smile that spread on her face as she ducks her head into the warm and cozy shop. Men had opened doors for her before and she really thought of herself as a strong woman who didn’t need a man for anything, but something about Harry’s action felt especially, and specifically, chivalrous. Why, she had no idea.

Neither of them stop to look at the menu. They were regulars and they both knew that about each other as well. He gestures for her to go first and she mutters her thanks before turning to the patiently waiting barista. She orders and is about to hand over her card when Harry suavely steps in and says, “Don’t worry about it. I invited you with me, I’ll pay.”

It was both completely unexpected and expected at the same time. Knowing she’d never win this fight, she thanked him again, glanced at the man taking her order and then stepped aside. Harry orders his own drink and then pays for both. Today he leaves double the amount he usually leaves for tip, she assumes since it’s two drinks he was paying for.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” She says quietly to him once they’re in a corner of the café waiting for their drinks.

He stands slightly slumped against the wall, closer to her height right now. He only shrugs, his good natured smile not once leaving his face since he entered this place.

“I wanted to,” he said simply right as the drinks were ready since it wasn’t particularly busy on this random Friday afternoon.

They glance outside and see that it’s begun to drizzle while they’ve been inside. She sighs, having hoped to walk around a little after being inside all day.

Instead, they sit at the corner table in the café, across from each other. She moves on from the paying thing, knowing it was simply how this guy probably operated most of his life.

He got a black coffee today, the cold and rain likely contributing to that choice.

As one pop song fades out, slightly under the sound of the coffee machines, she’s about to tell Harry she’s pretty sure she can make his final football match when ‘Cardigan’ fades in. It’s the second time a Taylor Swift song has been playing while she’s been in the presence of Harry and they were conversing. She tries to ignore one of her favorite songs at the moment. Harry doesn’t seem to pay much mind to it. His foot is tapping against his other, but it’s been tapping like that since they sat down.

“I think I could probably make it to your game,” she says finally after a pause and a sip of her own drink.

Harry grins at the response and launches into how great it will be if they win and how happy everyone will be. She smiles along and doesn’t notice the slight head swaying to the song that she’s begun.

“Fan of Taylor?” Harry inquires and Y/N’s face drops, eyes widening cartoonishly.

She stutters, a nervous laugh leaving her mouth before she can actually say something. How does she respond about liking Taylor Swift to a man who counts her as an ex. She’s at a loss.

“Yeah, uh,” she finally starts.

Harry watches her curiously, obviously noticing her discomfort as his question.

“I used to not really consider myself a fan. I don’t really follow her just because I don’t really follow...um...musicians,” she chokes out the last word realizing Harry fits that category. “But, after folklore, I don’t know, this album really spoke to me. I also really like Lover and...uh” she pauses again, sticking on 1989, an album she has argued with her friends about how it’s basically a tell all of the man before her and Taylor’s relationship.

He nods, hoping she’ll continue. He wanted to get to know her and he kind of liked seeing her squirm. “1989?” He finally supplies.

Her blush isn’t able to be covered this time. If her hair didn’t fall in front of her ears she was sure they’d be flushed with blood.

Then she draws out of her own self stress and looks at the smooth man before her and grows calm. He was amazing at winding her up and she didn’t want to seem like some young, impressionable fangirl to him. So, she squared her shoulders and straightened up in her chair.

“Yes, it was pop perfection as one of my college friends liked to say. I’d always listen to it at the gym.” Then she pauses, taking a measured breath, gaining her confidence back. Her eyes meet his, “Is there any songs off it that you particularly enjoy, Mr. Styles.”

He chuckles, mostly because of her emphasis on ‘Style’.

“Shake it off?” He asks.

“Oh fuck off!” She laughs and he joins in with her.

When they catch their breaths from laughing, they simultaneously take sips of their drinks and settle their eyes back on one another. Exes and songs written about oneself weren’t exactly the topics Harry had in mind for the coffee outing he had asked Y/N out on, but talks of exes had never been this funny with anyone else. He was grateful for her playfulness, her demeanor.

“Can I ask you something personal?” She asks quietly and seriously.

“I think we’re past that question, love,” he responds.

“Yeah, I guess,” she pauses and just about whispers, “Pretty much all of them are about you right?”

He shrugs again, his felt coat rustling around his seat. “We never really talked about every single song.”

She leans forward at the ‘we’ Harry is using about himself and Taylor Swift.

“But when I listen to the songs, I hear us in just about every one but a few.”

“Wow,” she breathes and sips her drink. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lived through something that intense and then someone commemorated in a masterpiece.”

“Do you have a favorite on that album?” He asks, moving on from her revelation.

“I love ‘I know places’, it has a cool sound. But I also really love ‘Wonderland’. They both have kind of dark sounds, yet it still is like what you have is so special that the bad bits are worth it. I don’t know, it just seems like a tv show. I don’t think my life could ever be that crazy or dramatic.” She doesn’t notice her use of ‘you’ because she had meant it as a form of analyzing the song theoretically as she had done hundreds of times with her friends,  but this time the ‘you’ is literally the ‘you’ the song is talking about.

“Love can turn anyone’s life chaotic.” Harry muses.

The green eye’s that flashed at Taylor throughout that album look at Y/N from across the table and she feels a flip in her stomach at his tone.

Maybe he notices her mild discomfort, maybe that’s just who he is. But after a beat, Harry’s onto the next topic on his mind. He launches into how he’s just returned from Scotland for a shoot for something so undercover he can’t even divulge to her, much to his dismay. She’s taken aback since she didn’t consider her someone Harry would divulge any of his private matters to, but it seemed like he already considered her a confidant. Just not for that. He wants it to be a surprise.

She smiles and listens attentively. She wonders as he goes on about his interesting yet absurdly lavish life whether he even knows what regular life is like anymore. Or if he’d even enjoy it if he experienced it.

Sure, coffee and football were plenty part of regular life . But the football league was something novel to Harry. He had just gotten to do it and he was thrilled by its normalcy.

She regarded him carefully, unsure what the next step was in this budding friendship. Was it dangerous to get involved with someone’s life which seemed to be filled with whirlwind rigor and constant change.

She liked her chaos, don’t get her wrong. She felt like she often was the odd one out in life. Always thinking differently than the ones around her. She often was the one to suggest spontaneous late night trips around town or exploration of an abandoned building known for spooky stories. She liked inviting friends over for themed parties for no specific occasions and she liked taking film pictures of friends like they were models even though it was only for her and her memories. She thought of herself as silly and fun, but what Harry described as his chaotic fun actually was regimented tight schedules of constant travel and work. Interesting experiences came out of that constant travel and work, but didn’t seem like something she necessarily wanted to get herself wrapped up in.

After coffee, they leave the café and it’s pouring now. Instead of going home, Harry insists on walking her to her place. She relents, realizing, once again, that Harry wasn’t someone who took ‘no’ for an answer. She then invites him in because it’s the polite thing to do. And Harry being Harry accepts.

“Want a dry sweatshirt while you wait?” She asks as she slips off her wet shoes and jacket in the entryway. Harry follows suit, his knit sweater being pelted with rain for the last eight minutes left him feeling cold and shivery.

He nods as he toes off his shoes and ventures back to the living room she had him wait in a few hours ago.

“Here,” She says as she tosses a grey sweatshirt in his direction. She believes it's her one from earlier, an innocuous pullover with ‘London’ in collegiate lettering on the front. He catches it as she rounds the corner to turn up the heater.

Her mistake was being so careless to not look at the sweatshirt before handing it over to her neighbor. Anyone else, maybe they wouldn’t have questioned it. But Harry, how could he not.

“What’s this?”

“A sweatshirt,” she doesn’t spare him a glance on the coach as she fiddles with the thermostat.

“It’s one of my sweatshirts,” Harry says and she can hear the smile on his face.

“That’s impossible, I’ve never borrowed-” Her brows had raised at what he said but now her words fall short.

He didn’t mean one of his personal sweatshirts that she possibly borrowed if they were better friends. No. He meant his merchandise.

“It was a gift,” she sighs as she turns to face him. He’s now wearing the sweatshirt proudly and grinning up at her smugly.

She rolls her eyes when he gives her a knowing smile.

“I didn’t know that it was the one I was handing you. Honest!”

“I thought you didn’t “keep up” with musicians,” Harry says playfully, his fingers making quotes appropriately.

“I don’t.” Her tone is serious as she plops on the couch beside Harry.

“I enjoy your music from time to time. Is that a crime?!” She finally exclaims when she can’t handle Harry’s knowing smirk.

“No it’s not, you could have just told me you were a fan!” She tries to stop him and protest that she wouldn’t consider herself a fan, but he continues, “I still would have wanted to have been friends.You’re one of the liveliest neighbors I’ve got. Everyone else on the street is rather dull.”

She chuckles, remembering finding out quickly that the street wasn’t a lively bunch.  

“I just wouldn’t say I’m a fan,” she presses and sits across from him.

He continues smiling like he knows the truth.

“I don’t think you’ve met an average person in awhile, Harry.” She finally says after they sat in silence for a few minutes because they were both too stubborn to be the first to talk.

“I would hardly call you average if that’s what you’re implying, Y/N.” He nods her way and he shifts on her plush couch, his legs adjusting themselves on their own accord. “And I know plenty of average people,” he adds huffily.

“I normally wouldn’t either, but compared to who you seem to surround yourself, I very much am. And that’s not meant to be a jab at anyone involved.”

His right hand sneaks up to his head to scratch at the base of a particularly perfect curl. His eyes squint a bit as his mind processes her claim.

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“I’m just curious to see if you’d actually like me in your life. It seems like you want to be friends with me and that’s great, but realistically I don’t know how much I would fit into it.”

Harry scoffs, “That’s literally bullshit, just relax. I’m so chill you won’t even know what to do with me.”

Now it’s her turn to scoff. “Chill?!” She asks incredulously. Harry nods with a seriousness she hadn’t seen before.

“When’s the next time you’re flying off to another country for work?”

Harry pauses, “Um...the day after the final match. I’m beginning to film a movie, so I’ll be there for a month.”

“Busy bee,” she muses and they both chuckle.

There’s something about the somber look Harry is giving her. His eyes twinkled in the coffee shop and with playful winks she was excited to be in his presence. But after she mentions when his next trip is, he seems saddened. There’s skepticism behind his eyes and maybe he doesn’t like being challenged about who he is from other people, especially those who are new in his life.

But that’s who Y/N is, she’s straightforward and doesn’t lie to someone. If Harry was now her friend, she was going to tell it like it is to him. That personality trait she worried wouldn’t make her long for his world.

“So the cardigan? Do you have it here?” Harry changes the subject, clearly not wanting to actually consider a realistic friendship together instead just charging ahead with no hesitation. Whatever happened they would deal with it as it came. Maybe she should just go with the flow, let herself be swept up into his madness. Maybe it would be easier than fighting it.

“No.”

“Oh?”

“I do, I was joking. Where else would it be?” Her tone is light, trying to get back the shine she had seen Harry exhibit before it had vanished.

Maybe that was Harry’s effect on people. He was vibrant and like an Elton John song. You never wanted that shine to go away, never wanted the song to end. Never wanted him to stop shining his light on you. She felt this happening in just a few hours with him. When he was happy so was she and when he wasn’t entirely shining she wanted to do whatever she could to get it back.

A smile curls on his face and his green eyes narrow slightly. He’s trying to figure her out, know what she’s all about.

“Do you want to go and grab it?” His voice sweetening, almost like a tease. Maybe he means to bite his lip, maybe he doesn’t, but the effect on her is nonetheless earthshaking.

She pops up and smiles back, happy to have made him happy. As she walks out of the room to go get the cardigan that had started this all, her head tilts and she furrows her brow wondering why she felt such a sense of pride just for making him happy.

Would this man cause her to finally put someone else’s wishes ahead of hers?

-

“Are you on your way?”

She listens to Harry’s slightly worried voice crackle over the speaker of her phone as she shuts her door with the hand not holding her phone to her ear. His voice is raspy and muffled. She assumes it’s from the cold air of London at night and the scarf he is likely got wrapped around his neck.

“Yes! Jeez, I’m on my way. Walking over right now.”

It’s the final match for Harry’s football team and if they win the game then they get a trophy and it’s all Harry has been talking about since they got coffee and she handed over her cardigan.

Harry huffed an “alright” on the other side of the line and she called a “see you soon” before hanging up.

He was both eager for Y/N to come and possibly meet some of his teammates and a few of his close friends who he had invited and for her to arrive so that she wasn’t walking out late at night alone. He hadn’t known her for long, but he felt a certain protectiveness over her. She was relatively alone here, only two friends at work that she had mentioned and everyone else lived far away. She said she didn’t mind it, but Harry had a hard time understanding it since he surrounded himself with his friends as much as he could and was constantly either traveling or having them travel to see him.

He had even contemplated inviting her to come to Los Angeles with him for a month, but knew she would remind him of her ever important job that she couldn’t just randomly take a month off.

He’d have to ask her what exactly she did because every time he tried to remember, it always slipped his mind.

When her figure came into sight below the fluorescent lights, he breathed a sigh of relief. A grin spread on his face as she beamed at him and waved a bit. He didn’t understand how she couldn’t see how special she was. Every time he saw her he felt himself straighten up and feel a bubbling in his chest. Her smile was infectious and the way her eyes glittered when she looked away quickly and then returned eye contact made him want to stay in her presence forever.

“You made it!” Harry said and scooped her up in his arms, not realizing just how happy he was to see her, swinging her around in a half circle.

She laughs in surprise, but appreciates the warmth Harry’s hug offers her. She’s not quite sure they had ever touched each other before this moment beside shoulder brushes and hand touches. Nothing so...purposeful.

“I made it,” she confirms and pats him on his broad shoulders.

Questions in her mind raced as she questioned whether it was normal for friendships to happen like this. She knew in college friendships could happen this quickly. And that’s when it dawned on her, she really hadn’t made a new friend since college and that was why everything with Harry was so odd to her. She had forgotten what new friendship was. She needed to stop questioning everything and just live in the moment with a person she really liked being with.

Harry’s hands move from her waist and one stays to lead her forward so he can introduce her to some of his mates, as he had promised.

She felt at home in that moment. His hand on the small of her back, his heat radiating off of him and her hair swept behind her ears and her cheek pressed to his shoulder staring up at him sweetly.

She meets Charlotte, a member of Harry’s band who lives in London, her boyfriend, Mitch (who had just happened to find himself in Hampstead this weekend), Ben, and a few more people she couldn’t remember all the names of.

Harry’s team wins the game and Y/N’s not sure if she’s ever seen someone so happy to win an adult league football match. There wasn’t any official trophy except the one Harry had made himself and said he would even give to the other team if they won. It was engraved with the words “The World’s Greatest Football Team of Stars Ever. October 22, 2020”. It doesn’t even make sense but she’d been holding it for the entire night as he played.

He goes down the line of his friends who have been watching and gives them all jubilant kisses on the lips. When he reaches Y/N she holds out the trophy and he grins and gives her a kiss on the cheek. His lips are surprisingly soft and his scratchy stubble tickles her and she swiftly pulls back, a smile on her face and blush on her cheeks nonetheless.

Charlotte and Mitch share a look between the two of them and Ben’s eyes narrow slightly at the interaction. His eyes narrow just as they had when Harry had strutted over to the group with Y/N before the game. He had happily named everyone and she had shaken all of their hands with a warm smile on her lips. Ben had regarded her warily and she had shaken it off as the chill of the night air. But there it was again, not quite trusting of the neighbour girl Harry had just randomly befriended a few days ago.

The team and the friends of the team decide they deserve to celebrate this win, mostly at the request of Harry.

Y/N tries to find a time to leave, to return to her place so she can prepare for her day at work tomorrow. But no excuses will be heard from Harry and she has a hard time saying no to his sparkling eyes and gorgeous grin that she’s growing far too accustomed to.

She’s ushered down to the closest pub with the rest of them and finds herself chatting with Charlotte’s boyfriend. He’s the most...normal. She’s not sure how to explain it, but he doesn’t seem to be regarding her as different, unlike every other one of Harry’s friends. They were all perfectly nice and cordial with her, but she just felt like she wasn’t a part of their group, their world and she didn’t know how to explain it.

Charlotte and Mitch are rather nice too, but they’re more reserved with her. They’re musicians, like Harry, and they somewhat have that air of awareness around them that Harry sometimes gets. She thinks it’s from the fame, having to constantly be wary of who is around you, what everyone is doing, what is happening next. She doesn’t mind it, it’s just not something she’s used to.

She wishes she could just throw back some drinks and she could allow herself to be more...well just be more. More of a presence, more of herself, but she has a job she has to get to bright and early. Tomorrow was Monday and for her that meant work. So she sips a beer that Harry insisted be on his tab and she makes small talk with Charlotte’s boyfriend about how he’s been helping her produce her first EP. Charlotte occasionally pops in when she hears her name, but mostly is conversing with Mitch over something silly. Y/N knows because they keep laughing.  

Harry is going around to just about everyone in the party and she watches as he happily talks with every one of his friends. He’s ecstatic and she wonders if she’s ever experienced happiness like he has.

At midnight she attempts to make a French exit, as her mother always called it, and slip away with little to no farewells, but Harry spots her before she can.

“You’re leaving already?” Harry asks loudly, the euphoria of winning his silly little game and drinking a fair amount of pints has him at his peak boisterity.

“I have work tomorrow,” she says warily, slumping slightly from the weight of Harry’s arm slinging around her shoulder.

He turns serious and straightens up slightly, his green eyes looking especially dark in the pubs dim lighting as they look her dead in the eye. “Let me walk you home.”

“I can get home by myself,” she laughs, shrugging off his hold. “Plus, the host can’t leave his own celebration.” She gestures to everyone else happily celebrating on a Sunday, somehow not bothered by the beginning of the average week.

He steps closer, his brow furrowing for the first time that night. One of his large hands raises to his tousled hair and he runs it through the tresses. He even nibbles at his lower lip as he contemplates his decision. Then quickly and suddenly, he makes up his mind,

“No, I’ll escort you. Can’t have my neighbour walk home this late alone. I’ll just leave my card with Mitch. He’ll settle up the tab.” He smiles at his perfect plan and she grimaces feeling slightly embarrassed that he would leave his friends to walk her home. “Won’t you Mitch?” Harry calls as he grabs his coat from the wall next to the door. Mitch simply nods and Harry yells his farewells, Y/N waves meekly.

“That was...interesting,” she mulls over her words as they walk through the cold night air outside of the pub.

“Amazing, right?” Harry speaks over her less enthusiastic voice.

“You have a lot of friends,” she mused, trying to sound less disheartened than she had in her last statement.

Harry only hums and shivers slightly from the cold. His breath comes clearly out in puffs in the cold night air. Y/N’s is muffled by her scarf wrapped tightly up to her chin. She’s tucked his face as far into it as possible but her nose won’t stop from freezing as they walk.

Her hand goes up to it and she rests her palm to the tip of it. The motion grabs Harry’s attention and he looks directly at her curiously.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m freezing,” she muffles out, “This helps my cold nose not be so..cold.”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around her shoulder and she easily folds into him, welcoming any warmth right now.

After another moment of silence and them enjoying each other’s warmth and slight smell of whatever perfumes they had chosen earlier that night as well as beer and wood of the pub, Harry nuzzles his head above hers and then asks her something.

“Was that overwhelming for you?”

She’s quiet, thankful his eyes can’t reach hers right now. He was too powerful with those things.

“I, um, a little. I just...I just realized today that I haven’t made a new friend since college outside of work and it was overwhelming just hanging out with you. So all of your friends as well, yeah, it was a bit much for me.”

Harry looks out at the empty street ahead of them and sighs in realization. In his excitement, he hadn’t accounted how she might have felt tonight until just now. He wanted to kick himself for not thinking of her feelings, but other’s feelings slipped his mind so easily sometimes.

They round their street corner and she nuzzles back into his side.

“I’m sorry, love.” He rubs at her outer arm, “I didn’t think about it like that. I was just so excited for my plan to come together. Maybe next time, it’ll just be a couple of them rather than so many?”

“Sure,” she says quickly, wanting to make him happy, knowing how much he cared about his friends. “I feel like we need to hang out more with just you before I osmos into your friend group though if I’m being honest.”

“Well that can definitely be arranged,” he says and reluctantly lets go of her body. They’ve arrived at her door.

“I also want to see the inside of your house at some point.” She tugs at one of his hands before it can disappear into his warm coat pocket. “Houses,” she corrects.

“That can also be arranged,” Harry smiles with his lips closed. Pink lips and rosy cheeks extra bright from the cold. He plays with her fingers as the two stand close to one another, happy for the alone time and chalking the proximity up to heat sharing.

“You leave tomorrow right?” She finally asks.

His head falls and he sighs.

“Yeah…”

“It’s just a month,” she smiles, trying to stop Harry from being so dramatic. Especially when there was no logical reason for him to be so upset over not seeing his neighbour - she keeps telling herself.

“Are you sure you can’t quit your job and just fly out with me?” He pleads.

She throws her head back in laughter and shifts closer to him, her front porch light illuminating and shadowing every perfect place on Harry’s gorgeous face.

“Not even a chance.”

“That is a shame,” he takes an experimental step closer and she feels his breath fan across her cheeks at his last word.

She wrinkles his nose at the smell of his last beer, even though coming from him it was endearing.

Just as she feels him being to shift his head closer, she steps forward and gives him a tight hug.

“Goodnight Harry,” she whispers into his ear, “Safe travels.”

Then she’s stepping back and swiftly unlocking her door. She moves it slowly so as to not wake Rori and then Harry’s left alone and dumbfounded on her doorstep.

He definitely preferred being with her alone, but now he didn’t even have that chance until next month. And nonetheless she had just sidestepped his kiss with such ease he’s not even sure if he meant to kiss her. It had felt right, but why? Because it was cold and picture perfect? Or because he was enchanted by her and liked her as more than a new friend?

She slumps in her kitchen and fixes an Emergen-C to stave off the chill of the night and any germs that might have been lurking around the pub. She hopes when she walks to her bedroom she can check the front porch and see that Harry has gone home because she would hate to turn the light off on him.

How could he have expected her to kiss him just then? They’ve only just met each other a few weeks ago? And he’s Harry Styles and she just lives in the neighbourhood. What the actual fuck had happened to her life?

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

“Just keep breathing. In and out. You’re doing great.” 11 with lewthur but with caretaker Arthur again bc it’s my favorite okay

HELL YEAH (source)

(context: instead of dying in the cave, lewis was “saved” and taken hostage by the station people, who also found reverb trapped in the arm. and they wiped vivi’s memories. juuust to be thorough)

Arthur never really expected to find Lewis anywhere they went – not after the first few times, it was just setting himself up for disappointment – but if he'd thought about it, he would have said that he was hoping not to find him here.

Lewis hated doctors, hated anything medical, hated white walls and being trapped and this place was the worst possible place for him. Underground and freezing cold, devoid of any real signs of life, full of cold, clinical language.

But as soon as Arthur noticed the musical theme of the place, a sick feeling of anticipation started to settle in his stomach.

That only got worse when they eventually found a room with a working computer. Arthur instructed Vivi and Mystery to watch the doors, and then started to search through the files – it seemed to just have a database, along with some other tools he wasn’t confident enough to touch yet. Most of the listed subjects weren’t human, were some kind of spirit or magic creature – but there was one, listed as human subject, that made his heart drop.

Harmony. He knew that name, remembered Lewis as a tiny child and that name sewn into the back of his shirt but if anyone said it he’d panic or shut down–

He committed the room code to memory and took off, not even bothering to give the other two a we’re going! first. The tunnels turned into a blur as he raced through them, barely stopping to check the signs for which way to turn.

Then, finally, they made it to the right room, and he slammed the door open. There was an observation window splitting the room in half, and he looked through it and–

–oh. Oh, god.

It was unmistakably Lewis, even with his hair out of its usual style and hanging in limp, dirty coils over his face, slumped over in the corner and god he’d lost so much weight–

“Shit,” he faintly heard Vivi breathe behind him, “shit, is that a person-?”

He didn’t have time to answer her, he had to get in there – but the door to into the test chamber was locked, someone must have left it like that when this place was abandoned not too long ago. He was reaching for the set of picks he’d stashed in his vest when he picked up a faint noise from behind the glass and his head jerked up.

Something... dark and smoky – mist? Fog? – was seeping into the chamber. Slowly, it took on a shape that looked almost... human. Its head – if it could be called that yet – was already focused in on Lewis, who was still unresponsive.

There was no time to pick the lock, he could feel it. Instead he backed up and balled his prosthetic hand into a fist and rammed it into the wall as hard as he could, and the glass, as it is wont to do, shattered.

He forced his way through the newly-made hole, paying no attention to the shards around the edge, and scrambled a couple steps forward before that thing had its eyes on him. It was forming a face now, glowing and sick green in a way that felt too familiar, in a blurry half-remembered way.

“Well, look at this!” it crowed, swirling slightly upward. “You’re actually here! It’s like a little reunion.”

Then it was moving for him, and there was nothing he could do to fight something that wasn’t corporeal –

And then Vivi stepped in with her bat at the ready, and Mystery hopped in after her, and the thing visibly recoiled, looking between the two of them. Its eyes settled on the dog for a moment, and it hissed. “You.”

Arthur didn’t pay too much attention to them – he was already moving for Lewis, dropping to his knees in front of him and with the monster at his back. 

“Lewis?“ he said, keeping his voice soft. He must have heard him, because his head picked up–

–and then he lunged back with a small gasp, eyes going wide with fear. He only got a little ways before something stopped him with a loud clank – he was bound to the wall.

“Lewis, it’s okay-” Arthur reached out to him with one hand, trying to reassure him, and then snapped his attention to the chains. He kept up a steady stream of reassurances as he worked, “it’s okay, you’re safe now, you’re going to be okay, just hang on.”

By some incredible stroke of luck, for which he spent a moment silently thanking whatever-was-watching in his head, whoever was in charge of the security in this place had made the common-but-still-embarrassing mistake of buying from a company that sounded fancy but didn’t actually have any idea how to make a lock. He shimmed it open in barely a second and the entire thing fell apart.

He looked back to Lewis, who still seemed frozen – had he even recognized him yet? – and scooted a little closer, reaching out again. This time he didn’t flinch away, and Arthur was able to close the distance and put a hand on his cheek. It was tacky with dried tears or sweat – it was impossible to tell – and his eyes were almost sunken, surrounded by dark circles.

“Lewis, it’s me,” he tried again. “I’m here now.”

He drew a little closer and then Lewis practically fell into him, burying his face in his shoulder. His breathing was shaky, unsteady, and if he was trying to hug him he was too weak to even get his hands up to his shoulders. Arthur just held him for a moment, rubbing his back with one hand, trying not to pay attention to the outline of his ribs and spine.

“We need to move,” he said after a moment, remembering that Vivi and Mystery were still holding back that thing. “Can you walk?”

“...dunno,” was the hoarse, almost-whispered reply.

“Okay. Just lean on me, okay? I’ve got you.”

They stood up together, Lewis’s legs shaking and threatening to give out before Arthur caught him and supported him a little more. This time, Arthur remembered to call out to Vivi as they were headed for the exit, and he briefly saw her head jerk around before he looked back towards the hole they’d made in the glass. He briefly struggled to get Lewis over the hole without scraping his knees, he couldn’t lift his legs high enough – and then Vivi was on his other side and, without another question, lifting him up and dragging him along, and they all started to run.

They were almost to what looked like a fire exit, when Arthur heard that indistinct whispering that had preceded the spirit’s arrival earlier. He saw wisps on the edge of his vision and could only try to move faster. Vivi suddenly disappeared and Lewis dipped forward, slowing both of them down significantly. The spirit was forming again next to him, that same sick grin stretched across its face–

Vivi’s bat connected with the thing’s chest and it exploded in a shower of ice-blue light.

When the light cleared, there was a frozen impact of ice shards in its chest, and it was visibly reeling. Vivi stared at it for a second, and then turned and ran for the others again, and that was everyone’s cue to start moving.

Arthur shouldered the door open, and thankfully there were only a few stairs, and he could see the bright orange of their van through the trees.

“Vivi, you drive,” he said when they were getting close to it.

She stared at him for a moment, visibly bewildered by this request. “What? I can-”

“Please.” He couldn’t leave Lewis alone, and she didn’t know what was going on, didn’t know how to help.

Maybe she could see or hear his desperation, because she didn’t argue anymore, just nodded and headed for the driver’s seat.

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

Arthur helped Lewis up the steep ledge of the van’s back doors, and then they both dropped to the ground, and it was silent for a moment as the van’s engine whirred to life and they started moving.

It didn’t take much longer for Lewis to start hyperventilating.

Arthur was there in an instant, pulling him to his chest again, and forcing his own breathing to be even and slow as he rubbed his back and murmured reassurances. “It’s okay. You’re safe. We’re gone, you’re never going back there. Just keep breathing. In and out. You’re doing great.”

It wasn’t long before he devolved into what might have been weak, hiccupy sobs, though he was too dehydrated for any actual tears. Arthur started carding one hand through his hair.

“You want some water?” he asked after a while. Lewis just nodded unsteadily against his shirt. 

Arthur pulled away a little and grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler. He helped Lewis drink, guiding the bottle with his hands.

After that, Lewis just stared at him for a while, and then reached out and put a hand over his.

“This... is you? You’re... real?”

His voice was still weak, but not quite as ragged as it had been before. Arthur picked up his hand and squeezed it.

“Yeah. I’m here. I promise.”

--

Lewis spent most of the next day pretty out of it, sleeping occasionally only to jolt awake at the slightest disturbance. Arthur barely left his side the entire time, except to grab water or something light to try to coax him to eat. He was always there to hold him and offer reassurances that yes, he was here, this was real, he was home and he wasn’t going to go anywhere.

At some point, pretty late in the night, Lewis was curled up against Arthur’s shoulder again, at the end of another bout of weak sobbing. He lifted his head only barely to speak.

“I still... smell like that place,” he murmured.

“You wanna take a shower?” Arthur answered, sitting up a little.

“Mm... too much work...” he laid his head back down again. “Don’t want you to leave...”

“I’ll help. C’mon.”

So Arthur pulled off the papery gown Lewis was still dressed in and helped him bathe, replacing the smell of sweat and disinfectant with the flowers and sweet vanilla of the bath soaps. He didn’t say anything about the large, messy, still-healing gashes in his side, just gently washed away the blood still left around the wound. He worked shampoo and conditioner through his hair, detangling the messy locks until they lay almost flat against his neck. The gentle rhythm lulled Lewis almost to sleep, swaying slightly as he sat in the bath, Arthur humming softly to him.

Once that was done, he helped him into clean pajamas, finally rid of every lingering trace of that fucking facility. Lewis’s own bed was dirty from him lying in it, so until the sheets could be changed, they both laid down in Arthur’s room instead.

They laid there in the darkness, the only sound a distant fan running in some other part of the house, and for a while, were just silent.

“...thank you,” Lewis said eventually, not opening his eyes.

“Of course,” Arthur responded immediately. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You came for me,” he continued. “I thought you were...”

Oh. He wasn’t just talking about the bath.

Arthur sat up a little, putting one hand on Lewis’s face and tilting it up toward his. “Hey. Look at me. I will always be there for you. No matter what. I’d look forever if I had to, okay? I would never leave you in a place like that.”

Lewis nodded slightly, and then went back to curling up against him.

“Thank you,” he said again, a barely-audible whisper.

[mandoalorian]

Hi, I was the anon who asked if you could write something because I felt crappy. I didn't mean to put any pressure on you. I was just looking for something short and sweet. I'm having existential anxieties a lot (pandemic hasn't helped) and struggle feeling as if I have a purpose in life. I'm crap at everything I do. I've tried to find comfort in believing that you don't have to have a purpose but it's hard to really believe. I lost my job recently bc of the pandemic and it's been hard finding another.

Any pedro character, although my favourites are Javier, Ezra and Frankie. Don't worry if you can't write anything tonight or don't have time etc. I will be fine and you aren't responsible for any anons that ask you to cheer them up so plz don't pressure yourself. Sorry for asking :/ and being a downer.

Oh my love, this has been in my inbox for a few days now. I’m sorry I’ve only just got round to doing it. Please don’t apologise for being a downer or asking! It’s what I’m here to do :) I hope this helps ease your anxiety and makes you feel better.

Comfort Blanket [Frankie Morales x Reader]

Warnings: mentions of anxiety/descriptions of a panic attack, Frankie is a soft dumb dorky himbo

Rating: PG-13

Your cheeks were painted with your tears, and they glistened under the dull bathroom light. You thanked your lucky stars that this had happened whilst you were home alone. You couldn't deal with having to face Frankie. You knew he'd confront you about this. You knew he wouldn't understand and he'd demand answers. You were always so happy and smiley. Even the guys (Will, Ben and Santiago) said you were such a positive influence on the group. But you were only human, and as you sat against the cold tiled wall, your elbow leaning on the toilet seat, you weren't feeling very positive. You weren't feeling... anything really.

Anxiety had consumed you to the point of sickness, and it was uncalled for. You'd spent hours sobbing, holding your head in your hands and furiously tugging on your hair. It felt like you were choking. The feeling of impending doom swarming your body, drowning you. You couldn't breathe. Your chest felt tight, your vision became hazy and your mouth dried up.

Frankie was just a phone call away. He'd want to know. If you were scared or hurting, he'd want to know. You knew what your boyfriend was like. He loved you so much. But you didn't want to worry him. He'd ask what was wrong and you wouldn't be able to answer him, because you didn't even know yourself. It was pointless burdening him with this. Just for once, you had to be independent. You had to face this alone.

You hadn't even heard the front door lock click open. He'd gotten home early and you were too busy whimpering in the bathroom to hear his usual greeting, "Honey I'm home!"

The words were cheesy, and they often earned a roll of your eyes. But it was yours and Frankie's special thing— and you loved it. Frankie dropped his keys in the bowl kept on the kitchen counter and padded through your small apartment. He was confused when you weren't there to greet him the way you usually were. Sure, he had gotten home from work earlier, but you'd always run into his arms and embrace him the second he walked through the door.

Frankie padded through the living room, down the corridor, thinking you might be in the bedroom. He paused midway when he passed the bathroom, freezing in his footsteps when he overheard your cries.

He stood outside the bathroom. You'd been together for six months and Frankie had never heard you cry before. He didn't know how to approach you. He felt an anger, wanting to know exactly who and what had hurt you. The sobbing stifled for a second and Frankie breathed a sigh of relief. Until you started again. Frankie opened the door.

You looked up at your boyfriend with glazed eyes, feeling your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. He wasn't supposed to see you like this. You hid your face in the crook of your elbows with shame, muffling your sobs.

"What's wrong?" He asked hesitantly.

You let out an even louder and infuriated cry when you couldn't answer his question. You shrugged your shoulders helplessly and let your tears soak your clothes as you held your knees to your chest. "I just... I just..." you gasped for air, unable to get any words out. Frankie understood. He knew how you were feeling.

"One sec." he said, holding up a finger before bolting out of the bathroom.

He dived into your shared bedroom, fell to his knees and stretched out his arms to pull out a box that he kept under his bed. It was your bed too, and yet you had no idea he kept it there. It was a relatively small sized cardboard box, messily stuck shut with strong masking tape. He carried the box back into the bathroom and slouched down next to you. He took a deep breath and passed you the box.

"What's this?" you sniffed, letting your fingers curiously trace the tape.

"It's my panic box. Inside this box is everything I need to help me calm down when I'm anxious or upset. Open it." Frankie urged, nudging you playfully. You giggled at his touch and wiped your eyes, trying to regulate your breathing. Frankie wrapped an arm around you and held you close as you peeled away the tape.

Inside the box was an array of things. The first thing you picked out was a soft fluffy blanket. It looked old, slightly rugged, torn in the corners and even sewn up with patchwork. It had a distinct smell too. It wasn't a bad smell. You couldn't describe it. It just smelled like Frankie. You shot him a questioning look.

"This," Frankie said, taking the blanket from you and opening it up. He draped it over you both. "Is my comfort blanket from when I was a kid. It's been with me through everything. Heartbreak, death, even the times when I was upset for no apparent reason... my comfort blanket always seemed to fix things. The least I can do is share it with you." Frankie smiled sheepishly and he noticed the way your eyes sparkled in delight.

"I had no idea you kept a comfort blanket." You confessed with a shaky exhale. You relished the feeling, grabbing a fistful of the material knowing that the blanket was probably not much younger than Frankie. That the blanket had been there for him throughout everything.

"Well, I do," Frankie shrugged. "But uh— don't tell the guys."

You giggled. "Thank you for sharing this with me." you sniffed, immediately beginning to feel so much better.

"Keep digging through the box." Frankie ordered, taking your hand and rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

You nodded, reaching back into the box with your free hand. Inside was a scented candle, miscellaneous packets of candy and chocolate, an old teddy bear, and what could only resemble something you kept locked away in your nightstand drawer.

"Frankie!" you gasped, taking the device out of the box and turning to him. Your jaw had dropped and you were trying to contain a smile. "What is this? It looks like a—"

"Don't say it!" Frankie said quickly, snatching the pink device from your hands. He flicked a switch and it started buzzing. You slapped a hand over your mouth in disbelief. "I know what it looks like, okay. But it's a back massager." He pressed two more buttons and demonstrated how it changed speeds and settings.

"Frankie... I don't think—"

"It's a back massager!" Frankie exclaimed defensively, cutting you off. Once again, your dorky himbo boyfriend had you lost for words.

You burst into a fit of giggles as Frankie pressed the vibrating device into the small off your back. "Frankie stop it!" you laughed as he crawled on top of you.

"Feels nice, doesn't it?" He quizzed with a smirk. You squealed as he poked his fingers into your side, tickling you, and only making your laughter grow. You had been smiling so hard, your cheeks began to hurt. You pulled the baseball cap off Frankie's head and tossed it to one side so you could tug on his dark curls. He finally lifted off you and switched the ‘back massager’ off. "I'm glad you're smiling." Frankie admitted, pressing a soft and chaste kiss into your cheek.

"Frankie, I love you so much." You admitted, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend. He picked you up, letting the comfort blanket fall to the floor and carried you to the living room. He dropped you on the sofa and tossed you the television control.

"I love you too," he cooed, smoothing out your hair and kissing your forehead. "Why don't we have a movie night, huh? I'll order take-out and bring us a few beers in."

"Okay." you sniffed happily. As you watched Frankie wander into the kitchen, you wondered how you'd ever gotten so lucky.

You knew now that even when you felt like you had to be independent, there was nothing wrong with letting Frankie comfort you. He could make you smile and laugh like nobody else could. He knew the exact way to cheer you up whilst still being considerate and sensitive of your feelings. He loved you so much, and for as long as he was with you, you knew you'd never be alone.

[winifredsandersonsbitch]

First Up to Bat (Part 2)

Spike x Reader, BTVS

Warnings: mild cursing, implied threats

Description: You may have escaped him the first time, but Spike’s far from done with you.

please forgive me, I’m a slow writer and I’m working full-time hours. I also let this sit in my drafts for a bit bc I wasn’t totally happy with it, but maybe it would feel better as a series?

Over the next few weeks, you settled into the idea of things going bump in the night. After your encounter with the vampire, you start carrying around a few extra supplies in your backpack. You keep holy water in a water bottle (marked with an X on the lid so you won’t sip from it by mistake), a stake you carved out yourself in the outer pocket. Around your neck, you wear a tiny gold cross. You don’t know if it will be a deterrent, but it’s cute, anyway.

You hardly stray from the comfort of the dorms at night now, but when you do you’re prepared. Despite this—or maybe because of it—you haven’t had any other chance encounters with the undead.

Then one night your friend drops you off outside the dorms after a party where you’ve gotten more than a little buzzed, and he’s waiting for you.

Spike.

He seems like the obsessive type, so you aren’t entirely surprised that he’s been keeping tabs on you. When you step out of the car, pausing to pull your jacket more tightly around yourself, you catch a glimpse of movement from the side of the building and a thick waft of cigarette smoke. You tug the holy water from its tiny pocket in your jacket lining, not trusting yourself with the stake you’ve strapped to the inside as drunk as you are.

Spike greets you like an old friend.

Before you can make it up the front steps, he stamps his cigarette out and steps into the light.

“Let me walk you in,” he says, like he has been your date for the evening and has never had any intentions of killing you and draining you dry.

Your hands are unsteady as they uncap the bottle, but you put on your best threatening voice. “Stay the hell away from me.”

“Oh, come on, love. If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it by now.”

“You like to play with your food.”

Your words are quiet, a little more slurred than you’d like, but he beams and takes a step toward you.

“You remembered.”

Some of the water sloshes over the brim of the bottle as you fall back off the edge of the sidewalk in your haste to get away, leaving a damp mark on the concrete that Spike sidesteps. He’s so much lighter on his feet than you are, even when you’re sober. You’re beginning to think that your only options here are to die or transfer immediately out of Sunnydale.

“You don’t have to worry about me tonight, although I am impressed that you came prepared. Is that a stake I spy?”

He’s whirling you around before you can even open your mouth to respond, stripping the jacket off you in one quick and practiced move. He laughs at the pouch you’ve sewn into the lining to house your weapon.

“You’re more clever than I gave you credit for. You could teach that Slayer a thing or two.”

“Leave me alone.”

The vial of holy water is starting to feel like a joke in your hand, but you keep your grip around it tight. Spike doesn’t try to pry it from you, just drapes your jacket over his arm casually.

“Let’s get you inside. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

He puts his arm around you, every bit the concerned gentleman, but his skin is as cold as ice. You flinch at his touch. You can tell he enjoys it.

He steers you to the elevator and then up to your room on the third floor, making small talk all the while. He’s so clearly getting off on your fear, but you can’t clamp down on it. All that you have left is the holy water, and he doesn’t seem the least bit concerned. If anything, you think he likes the threat of it, enjoys the pain.

“This is me,” you say when you reach your door, praying that your roommate is out for the night. You know that Naomi couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone fend off a fully fledged vampire, and you don’t especially want to be responsible for her death.

“You’re not going to invite me in for a nightcap?”

“Do you wa—” The response is so polite and automatic that you almost go through with it, until the part of your brain that’s still working checks itself. “Hey!”

“Worth a shot.” He shrugs, then hands you your jacket. “Sweet dreams, love.”

“Wait, that’s it?”

Probably not the smartest thing to say under the circumstances, but you can’t help it. He’s confused you. You would prefer not to be murdered, yes, but you also don’t want to continue suffering in wondering if he’s going to pop out from every shadowy space in your life.

“Did you want to get bitten this evening? Because that can be arranged.”

He’s wearing the same charming serial killer smile as the first time you ran into him, but something’s off. He’s not as confident, for some reason.

“No.”

You drag your keys out of your pocket and fumble with them awkwardly, switching the holy water to your other hand.

“Need some help there?”

“No, um, I’ve got it,” you mumble, but the keys slip from your fingers onto the floor. You both lean down to reach for them at the same time, knocking foreheads.

“Ouch!”

“Bleeding hell!”

His cry seems sharper than yours, more pained, although you can’t figure out why he wouldn’t have a super pain tolerance to go with the super speed and agility.

You almost ask about it, but you figure it’s best to not provoke him any more than necessary tonight. He gets the door unlocked for you and leaves you with a quiet “goodnight,” his overly dramatic black jacket trailing after him.

You get inside to find Naomi safe and sound, snoring loudly and peacefully with no idea of the darkness that lies just outside.

[gay-psychopomp]

Rant?

So like

I lost my biggest comfort object about 15 months ago (probably more like 14.5 but who's counting?). It was a baby blanket I'd had all my life. He was really worn; barely pink anymore, his trim was coming up, the embroidered flowers were tearing off, and he resembled a towel more than a blanket.

His name was Blankie and I fucking loved him so much. I'd gotten to the point where I could sleep without him and stuff, but I'd started taking him to school. I stimmed with him and he generally comforted me during the day. I'd still sleep with him most of the time, just bc it was easier.

I was at school one day and I left him behind, presumably during lunch and in the hall where I usually eat lunch. I came back to that very hallway that evening because of a choir concert and that hallway was where my choir met up. Not there.

It took me a couple days to actually find out where Lost And Found was and get there. I described him as a towel, seeing as that's what most people recognized him as, but they said they didn't have anything like it. I do somewhat regret not clarifying that it was, in fact, an old baby blanket, but I did tell them it had my first name sewn into one corner in case they found something similar. They said they'd call me if something showed up.

Never happened.

I cried for days, if not weeks, about it. I'm tearing up while writing this. I mean, my family had been wondering if/when I would be getting rid of him, but I never intended to. It's a comfort object. Kids are supposed to let go of them when they're ready. I wasn't quite ready.

Life goes on, but I still think about him. I had a dream recently where I had him again and that's all I remember. I meditated with a few ppl in theatre the first day of exams and at one point, we were told to mentally picture ourselves on a plane of clouds where we can create anyone and anything and it'll be real. I just made Blankie. I didn't want to, nor could I if I had wanted to, make anything else.

I've tried to substitute other things, but it's never the same. The stuffed animal I got for Christmas about a month after it happened just wasn't as portable. I couldn't stim with him. It was so much easier to drape a "towel" around my neck. It wasn't even super covert, people who asked were told that he was a baby blanket. Everything I try to replace him with is temporary and I forget about it quickly. I'm not even really religious, but I've prayed to whatever is out there that I get him back. I know at this point he's long gone, but I still hope. I keep thinking that the very day I lost him he got mistaken for trash and just thrown away.

I know it would probably take another 16 years to get the same fabric to the same texture, maybe even the same conditions of being partially trapped and preserved underneath the trim fabric of the blanket and partially exposed to life and air, but I keep trying to find something similar. The inside of Walmart hoodies gets close, but none of it stays soft. People never thought he was soft, but there was one specific corner of him that was so soft and cuddly. I still find myself rubbing the back of my finger along fabric the way I did with him, but it's never the same.

I don't really believe in fate, either, but part of me wonders if there was a reason it happened. I have an idea or two, but I can't be sure since I can't pinpoint any of them to actually starting when I lost him. Part of me wonders if it was Karma for something I did, and if so, what I did.

Honestly, if I could go back in time and change one thing, it would probably be that. I'd make sure I had him before I went to class.

[fredthelegend]

Passion for Fashion

Pairing: Brian May x reader

Summary: You’re a college student whose hobby is fashion. You finally meet someone with a passion that rivals yours.

WC: 1.6+

Warnings: none

A/N: Literally I’m so slow at filling requests bc I always gotta be extra :/ sorry y’all I’m trying! This request was really cute, I hope you like it, anon!

Your job at a boutique allowed you dress the way you wanted without going broke. You took home all of the clothes that were ripped and fixed them yourself, sometimes even making your own designs out of the scraps. You also got a hefty discount on the items in the store, which you often took advantage of. It’s safe to say that fashion was your hobby. Being a college student with not a lot of free time, you were grateful that your job encouraged your passion. Usually, college students will dress for comfort, so you always stuck out like a sore thumb. You didn’t mind it though, you basked in the attention and felt a sort of pride each time you turned a head. As far as you were concerned, you were the most fashionable person and most forward trendsetter in the university. That was until you met Brian May.

While finishing up a paper in the cafe, a tall curly haired young man walked into the shop, letting the door shut behind him with the tinkle of the bell. The bell caught your attention and when you looked up, you found he was already staring at you. While you were used to it, there was something different about the was he looked at you. Then you noticed what he was wearing. An embroidered scarf hung around his neck, tucked under the collar of a rather expensive looking brown suede jacket. You pursed your lips in a smirk, realizing you’d met your fashion match at your university. You turned your head back to your paper, working for a few uninterrupted minutes before someone slid a chair up to your table. 

“I don’t believe we’ve met, I would’ve remembered you,” the young man stuck his hand out after setting his coffee beside yours on the small table. However flirty his statement had sounded, there was a certain challenge about him. He wasn’t talking about remembering your face, clearly he was talking about your clothes. You couldn’t blame him, your clothing choices were anything but forgettable.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you took his hand. “I’m an English major here.” He nodded.

“Astrophysics,” he responded, blowing on his coffee. “I couldn’t help but admire your jacket, I’ve never seen anything like it before.” He was talking about your jean jacket that you had sewn a few orange suede strips on. I was one of your favorites. 

“Thanks, I made it myself,” a corner of your mouth lifted up. “You never told me your name, Mr. Astrophysics.”

“Brian May at your service,” he grinned. The rest of the afternoon was spent talking about style, current events, and everything in between. Conversation was so easy with Brian and you found yourselves being kicked out of the cafe promptly at 6pm, which is when it closed. 

“You know, my band is playing at the pub downtown tonight and I’d love it if you’d come watch,” Brian asked you as he walked you to your dorm. “We’re not half bad, we got a new singer and bassist a few weeks ago. I think you’d really like our new singer, Fred.” 

“I’d love to!” you told him with a smile. “Well, this is my dorm, what time is the show?” 

“It’s at 9, I’ll see you there,” he left you with a kiss on your cheek before you disappeared into your dorm. 

“Three hours? That’s hardly enough time to get ready!” you said to yourself before booking it to your room. After at least an hour of deliberation, your closet lay in a heap on your bed. Since Brian liked your jacket so much, you decided to pair it with a high waisted jean skirt (Canadian tuxedos are all the rage right now, come on), a black turtleneck, and over the knee black socks. You had a pair of orange suede go go boots that matched the strips on your jacket perfectly. You tied a piece of the orange fabric that you had left over in your hair before moving to do your makeup.

You stepped out of your dorm promptly at 8:30 and made your way to the pub. While it wasn’t a very long walk, your feet killed you when you pushed the door open. Hey, beauty is pain, right?

“(Y/N)!” Brian shouted your name across the noisey bar, waving you over to a table on the wall that included what must be his band mates. “Meet Roger, our drummer, John, our bassist, and Freddie, our singer!” You gave a little wave to everyone before sitting down in the booth next to Brian. John gave you a nod and Roger gave you a wink before they turned and went back to whatever they were bickering about. Freddie gushed about your jacket, admiring your outfit and telling you that he’s never met anyone with a style to rival Brian’s, which earned an eyeroll from Brian. Before long, “Queen” got called up to the stage and you were the one to kiss Brian on the cheek this time as a good luck. 

If your socks weren’t so long, you were sure they would’ve been knocked off. They were simply the best band you’d ever seen live, their chemistry was incredible and they were each respective geniuses at their instruments. Although Freddie certainly was an eyefull, you couldn’t keep your gaze off of Brian for long. Each solo was more mystifying than the last. The show was over far too quickly for your taste, and the boys bounded back to the table in all of their after show glory. Surprisingly, Brian wrapped you in a hug and spun you around and you squealed, telling the boys how amazing they’d done.

The next few weeks included study dates with your new best friend Brian, trips to the pub every weekend to watch Queen perform, sewing with Freddie, and hanging out with the boys almost every day. You were there when they recorded their first album, when they went to see Freddie’s family, everything. It was a comfortable cycle. The boys were the best friends you’d ever had and they were the happiest few weeks of your life. You’d be graduating soon with your English degree, and to be honest, you had no clue what you were going to do after. Brian always told you not to worry, that everything would be alright, and you trusted him. You trusted him more than you’d ever trusted anyone before. 

“(Y/N)!!!” Brian screamed as he pushed open the door to your dorm. You dropped the needle and fabric in your hand.

“Oh my god Brian what! What happened!” you ran out of your room in a flurry, worried that something bad had happened. 

“We got a record deal!” he picked you up and spun you around just like he’d done the first gig you’d been to. 

“Seriously?!” you giggled, holding Brian just as tight. “That’s so amazing, Brian!” He set you down and put his hands on your shoulders in a serious manner. 

“Okay, I have good news, bad news, and just plain news,” he said, guiding you to sit on the couch. “Which do you want to hear first?”

“Well...I guess the bad news,” you bit your lip, worried. Brian grabbed your hands and held them in his, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs on the back of your hands.

“The deal includes a tour, which means I’ll be leaving for a few months,” your stomach dropped as you searched Brian’s eyes, waiting for him to tell you he was kidding. Brian was your whole world, your best friend, your rock. Truth be told, you’d been in love with him for weeks, but never told him for fear of rejection. This was so much worse than rejection. Brian saw the tears in your eyes and was quick to tell you the good news. “But listen here, I’ve talked to the band and to management and because we all love you so much, we want you to come with us as our personal designer!” Your mouth dropped open and you immediately attacked Brian with a hug, pushing him backwards. You’d never been more relieved in your entire life. 

“Thank god,” you breathed into Brian’s hair. “Wait, you said you had good news, bad news and then just plain news?” You sat up but Brian stayed laying down. He bit his lip nervously. “Bri, just spit it o-”

“I’m in love with you, (Y/N),” he said quickly. “I have been for weeks, and when they said we were leaving I knew I just had to tell you, even if you’ll be coming with us now after you graduate, I mean because you don’t have any concrete plans after you graduate soon, I really hope you’ll come with-” You cut him off by leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips. Brian immediately melted just as you pulled away. 

“Of course I’ll come with,” you said breathlessly. “And I love you too, Bri. I love you so much.” Brian’s face broke out in a smile and he took your head in his hands, dragging your face to his for another kiss. 

[archadianskies]

do u still write grelliam? bc grelliam - i said/did to make you laugh

→ ao3

If there is one thing Director William T. Spears detests above all else, it is inefficiency.

Yet how does one address inefficiency caused by injury? Harder still, when the inefficiency is borne from anxiety, from helplessness and frustration.

Both results have returned negative, small blessings and silver linings gilding an otherwise horrific situation. The Ancient one, so revered out of awe and fear, is the very reason the pair are here in the first place and had William known the extent of their injuries, of her injuries he wouldn’t have made her row them ashore.

“How long will they need to stay here?” He asks as Dr Charles Farrough comes to stand at Ronald’s bedside.

“A while, lad.” a heavy sigh as he glances at his clipboard. “In the very least, another week in recovery before they can begin physiotherapy. Scythe wounds can’t be healed using our regenerative abilities. It has to heal the long way.”

He’s no stranger to visiting the Infirmary, he’s even dragged Sutcliff here personally but even after her Jack the Ripper stint recovery had only taken a day’s worth of bed rest and a spoonful of Starlight analgesic before she was out the door; a week is an eternity for a Reaper used to healing in a few hours.  

“Tests came back negative for the Thorn for both of them, so at least there’s that.” Charles sighs, knocking his glasses up briefly so he can rub his eyes tiredly. “The stitches run deep for Grell, the deepest I’ve sewn in a while now. Even when Cooper had his leg sliced off I only had to tack it in place and let his healing do the rest.”

“The Ancient One’s scythe and skill are still as deadly as the day he began.”

“Don’t discount her skills either, William.” He chides with a shake of his head. “Had it been Ronald receiving the brunt of the scythe, the lad would have died. That she’s here at all is testament to her strength.”

“Are they still sedated?” William asks, sparing Grell a brief glance before looking to the doctor.

“They should surface soon, but be gentle with them they won’t be coherent yet.” He reaches down to smooth Ronald’s ginger hair away from his pale face. “It takes a lot to put a Reaper under, so it’ll take a lot for them to claw their way back up.”

“I will keep that in mind, Dr Farrough.” He nods as Charles claps him on the shoulder.

“It’s just a waiting game now, lad. Be patient.”

The younger Reaper surfaces first, blinking awake and whining in pain when he tries to sit up. William presses Ronald’s shoulder firmly to prevent him from moving.

“Don’t.”

“Owww…” The boy whines, face scrunching up in pain. “Head’s stuffed with cotton and chest is on fire. Callin’ in sick today boss, sorry.”

“None of this is your fault, there is no need to apologize.” It comes out too sharp, too biting, and Ronald seems to shrink at his tone. He tries again. “You and Sutcliff are heavily injured, no one expects you to return to your duties immediately.”

Ronald tilts his head to the side, squinting at the occupant on the other bed. “Cap’n still out?”

“Yes.”

“I’d be dead if not for her, y’know.” Ronald’s voice drops to a whisper. “Shoved me outta the way when she saw that scythe come down for me.”

“You are young,” he reasons, “she knew you would not have survived.”  

“But did she know she’d survive?” Ronald’s pleads, and lying there so pale from bloodloss and swamped with gauze and bandages he seems ever so small and even younger.

“I’m not sure.” He says, because it’s the truth and Ronald isn’t a child to be placated with sugary lies no matter the optimistic intent.

“I’ll be stronger, I promise.” His voice wavers, unsteady and unsure and William can count every single day of the scant century between their ages.

“Ronald I don’t think anything could have prepared you for that fight.” It’s the truth, again, but he hopes it’s reassuring in its helplessness.

“My chest feels like it’s on fire.” A couple of tears slip from the corner of his eye, rolling down towards his ear before he labours a hand up to brush them away.

“Recovery will be slow, Dr Farrough said.”

“Do we- do I have-”

“Tests came back negative.” William interjects, and then adds after a pause. “For you both.”

Ronald says nothing, but he sighs in such relief. He’s not used to giving comfort, but he manages to pat Ronald’s hand in a way he hopes to convey his well wishes. It seems to work. The younger reaper closes his eyes and sleeps.

He’s partway through the day’s checks and balances of deaths and souls when Grell finally surfaces from sedation. It’s more violent than Ronald’s slow awakening, it’s eyes snapping open it’s a strained gasp it’s a pained cry and she turns her head this way and that to take in her surroundings.

“Sutcliff.” He keeps his voice low and steady, and it’s enough to focus on her attention.

“Will?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m being held together by a single silk thread.” She huffs a tired laugh, sinking back into her pillow and staring at the ceiling. “Which I’m sure isn’t far from the truth.”

“Dr Farrough said the stitches are numerous and deep due to the severity of the injury.” William confirms with a nod. “Recovery will be slow for the both of you, even moreso for you though I’m sure you surmised that.”

“Didn’t think I’d make it, to be honest.” She grins wryly though she doesn’t meet his gaze. “Thought I’d be sliced in half and be done with it all.”

“I-” a sharp intake of breath, a gathering of courage and discarding of pride. “I didn’t realise the extent of your injuries when I made you row us ashore and I know that only exacerbated the scythe wound. You lost a significant amount of blood in the process and pulled the wound open deeper than it was.”

“An apology, my my.” Grell drawls, lips twitching up briefly. “Things must be dire, Will. Did my result come back positive for the Thorn?”  

“No. Both tests came back negative.” It’s a splinter, her words, burrowing beneath his skin and he accepts it as penance owed. “I’m apologising because you deserve an apology for my actions.”

“I’m exhausted, love.” She sighs, eyes fluttering closed. “I’ve never felt so tired in my life.”

“Then rest, Sutcliff.” He implores her, pride be damned as he reaches to squeeze her hand. “You need to rest.”

When William returns the next day Ronald is fast asleep, and Grell is propped up by pillows behind her neck and back. She gives him a lazy wave of her fingers.

“Good morning, Sutcliff.”

“Hello darling.” Her voice is softer and scratchier with fatigue. “Still holding together at the seams.”

He nods at that and takes a seat at her bedside. He’s come prepared, arms full of the day’s paperwork to manage.

“Ronnie and I will have to get Eric and Alan thank you presents.” She muses, fingers toying with the blanket hem. “All the inevitable overtime they’ll be doing because of us.”

“It’s not your fault.” He says firmly, frowning at her. “They’ll take on extra duties but that’s the way it has to be for now.”

There’s more to be said but she doesn’t say it, only purses her pale lips tightly and stares down at her hands. The bloodloss and fatigue make her look younger, more like the incorrigible student he butted heads with back in their Academy days. Without her makeup he can see the smattering of cinnamon freckles on her skin, can see the pale ginger lashes without their black lacquer framing her eyes. She’s without her painted mask, she’s without her bravado and everything feels wrong.

William focuses on his paperwork and she focuses on her chipped red nail polish.

The work is ceaseless and unrelenting but such is their duty. He was able to spare them several hours in the first two days but now he’s only able to duck in to see them and talk briefly with Dr Farrough to discuss their progress. Ronald is healing well, his injuries not as severe as his senior and Dr Farrough hopes to clear him for physiotherapy in three days time. Grell, on the other hand, is recovering slower than projected. The wound is deep, but clean, and by that logic it should be an easier recovery. It is not.

They haven’t had to resort to sedation again, but it’s come close to that, Dr Farrough tells him. Twice she’s woken from sleep in agony, and once he’s had to replace her stitches after she tried clawing them out.

It’s six days since he’s had time to properly sit in the hospital room, and by now Ronald’s been discharged to the care of Eric Slingby for light bed rest and physiotherapy thrice a week at the training facility.

Grell is a spot of red in a sea of clinical whites and muted greys, and the room seems to swallow her up. He brings her some tea and a pastry from the cafeteria, which elicits a small tired smile.

“You’re going to scold me for scratching my stitches aren’t you.” She sighs heavily, tracing the rim of her teacup.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t understand the pain you’re in, so I can’t make judgement on that.”

“It feels like ice.” She rests her palm gingerly to her chest. “I can’t describe it. It’s like ice but hot. A hot sort of cold. A cold so intense it feels hot.”

“It’s your body’s healing response trying to knit the tissue back together.” He leans over to cut the pastry for her to prevent her performing the repetitive back and forth motion with the knife that will aggravate her fresh stitches.

“This is going to leave one hell of a scar.” She toys with the handle of her cup, pointedly avoiding his gaze. “I already hate what I see in the mirror, what more now that there’ll be a hideous gash running right across my torso?”

He hadn’t thought about that, not at all because that’s a pain only she feels and the wound is yet another pain only for her to experience and all at once he feels like a fool, so very sorry indeed.

“I’m going to relive that moment every time I bathe, every time I change my clothing.” Her breathing comes quicker now, and her voice warbles with barely restrained tears. “Ronnie gets a scar he can brag to the ladies about and I get another nail in this goddamn coffin of a body.”

He doesn’t know what to say, he can’t relate to a fight that isn’t his and yet he knows he played some part in her suffering. William clears his throat, reaching over to pat her hand reassuringly.

“Drink your tea, Grell. It’ll go cold.” She manages a wobbly smile.

“Of course Will.”

A full eight days after the projected schedule Grell Sutcliff is discharged to the care of William T. Spears for light bed rest and physiotherapy thrice a week at the training facility. He takes her home on a stormy London afternoon wrapped in a thick coat and scarf. They have to travel the mortal way, as she’s too fragile to be leaping and bounding across rooftops and making the quick jumps that allow reapers to move at inhuman speeds. It isn’t a long journey by any means but she falls asleep leaning against him and he doesn’t say a word.

She settles into his guest bedroom and she’s too tired to joke about getting into his (pyjama) pants or between his sheets, Grell simply rests her head on the pillow and falls asleep again. He only wakes her later to coax her to eat a light dinner and then he leaves her be for the rest of the evening. Physiotherapy awaits the next day and he knows she needs her rest.

Physiotherapy, William learns, does not go well and Grell ends up back at the Infirmary for reopening her wound. When he’s signed off on the last of the day’s reports he finally heads over in the early evening to visit her only to be intercepted by Dr Farrough first.

“Not tonight, lad.” He grips William’s shoulder. “She’s a right mess and it’s not a good idea to see her.”

“She’s hurt again.” He tries to reason, but the doctor shakes his head.

“She is, in more ways than one.” Charles glances at the door of her room. “Come back tomorrow after she’s rested and composed herself. She’s in a bit of a state right now.”

It’s taken him too long to do the decent thing, really and he’s mentally kicking himself for not doing this sooner. The shop is a small one but it’s bursting with colour and the heady, heavy aroma of an amalgamation of blooms.

He selects a single red rose and then requests the florist build a bouquet around it so the rose is the centrepiece. It’s a large, dramatic arrangement which he thinks suits her quite well, and it’s finished off with a large red organza bow around the stems.

Unwilling to risk damaging the flowers, he travels the mortal way in a vehicle with the bouquet on his lap. He wrinkles his nose, feeling a tickle in his nostrils. Dust from the interior of the vehicle, surely.

It’s the pollen. William realises it as he’s walking to the Infirmary with his eyes watering and an incessant itching in his nose. He sneezes for the umpteenth time, startling a clinician who he apologises to immediately.

Grell is sitting up in bed, eyes and the tip of her nose pink from crying. He can tell she’s frustrated and upset with herself, but the expression vanishes when she spots him in the doorway with the large bouquet.

“Will?”

“Grell, these are for y-y-” He squeezes his eyes shut to fight off an impending sneeze. “For y-achoo!” It fails. “Apologies, it seems the pollen is a-aggra-achoo!” Another sneeze. “Oh blast it.” He mutters, crossing the room to thrust the bouquet into her hands. “Here, I- achoo!”

She giggles, shoulders shaking until the giggle turns into a bright laugh.

“Well I’m glad my suffering is amusing to you.” He comments dryly as she launches into another peal of laughter.

“They’re lovely.” She hugs the bouquet, burying her nose in it to savour their sweet scent. When she looks up at him, she smiles, eyes bright. “Thank you William.”

It’s all worth it, William realises even as he wrinkles his nose to try and stave off another sneeze. Leaning over he presses a kiss to the crown of her head.

“You’re welcome, Grell.”

*~*~*

[The amaranth flower is one of the symbols of immortality and has been used as such a symbol since the time of Ancient Greece. Indeed, the word comes from the Greek amarantos (Αμάρανθος or Αμάραντος), meaning the “one that does not wither,” or the never-fading (flower).]

It’s also a flower with a high pollen count sorry Will ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[minscellaneous]

Hdgsjsg hey what's the miracle merge?:o

sdkjfDFJLLNj my oc zombie apocalypse survivor group i’ve written for a tv show that will never exist. i’ll talk more about these people under the cut bc i’ve never had a chance to talk about the miracle merge til now LMFAO feel free to just skip, it’s super long and you can tell i’ve planned out a lot

so the miracle merge is made up of six people, mainly from the california area, with the exception of three people (alex is from nevada & juan is from mexico). none of the miracle merge are cishet or white, so jot that down. the group mostly sticks to themselves, not working with any outsiders unless absolutely necessary to their survival. they usually go around stealing a few stuff from groups/individuals they come across; not enough to draw too much attention to themselves. they would die for each other. their story takes place mostly in western America, where a zombie plague currently terrorizes the country due to chemical warfare. contaminated areas began to seep into civilian water supply and rising oceans washed the contamination closer to civilization. coastal areas were hit hard first, which is why a majority of the miracle merge are from LA. animals, humans, and carnivorous plants can all be infected by the disease; carnivorous plants mutate and enlarge to consume larger entities.

the members!!!:

dr. ligaya mendoza (the leader)

nonbinary / 30 / filipino / asexual; romantically only into boys

5′11″

also goes by dr. li or li

used to be a history professor at UCLA, specifically in medieval European history

super charming, a natural leader and face for the miracle merge

acts as the main thief for the group; their charming and good-natured personality wards away any suspicion from opposing groups

has a crush on juan for a really long time (love that slow burn)

“are you a doctor?”

“yes, in fact, i am” 

“so you can help my sister? she’s got a broken ankle”

“…not that kind of doctor”

kaori takada (the builder)

cis female / 25 / japanese / lesbian

immigrated to LA from East Japan as the outbreak hit, looking for civil engineering careers

this obviously makes her very skilled in crafting AND she’s physically built af

six feet tall aka literally my dream girl 

huge temper issues; do not piss her off!!! she will beat you in a fight

very intimidating to outsiders bc she’s quiet and reserved but actually she’s super shy and not as brave as the rest of the miracle merge 

main weapon is a sledgehammer

gave everyone in the miracle merge construction masks that were in her tool box to protect from blood getting into their mouths 

developed a deep friendship with peregrine over the course of the apocalypse; very much a brother-sister relationship 

eventually becomes girlfriends with dinah; she has a huge soft spot for her

peregrine parker (the boy scout)

trans male / 22 / black / pan

was a registered nurse 

was in boy scouts for most of his childhood; skilled in archery and has a good sense of direction

born in oregon; traveled to LA to visit a former patient who recently moved; the patient was showing signs of agitation and high fever according to the call from their caretaker; peregrine found his patient and caretaker zombified in their home

best friends with kaori and alex (made alex a flower crown on one of their scavenging trips!)

5′10″

is often the one tasked with scavenging, searching, and hunting, and being the medic of the miracle merge

peregrine and alex are the usual scavenging pair bc of his hunting skills and alex’s abilities which will be mentioned later 

dinah evercreech (the bruiser)

cis female / 28 / black / bi 

was an actress living in beverly hills 

5′3″

addicted to cigarettes, so it’s a huge problem for her if she can’t find any 

very “prim and proper”?? always used a handkerchief to touch public things and refused to stay at anything less than a 5-star hotel, so the fact that the apocalypse is here is totally inconvenient for dinah

very skilled in hand-to-hand combat bc of her experience in action films 

becomes gfs with kaori in the middle of the zombie apocalypse; a fucking power couple

juan nichols (the marksman)

cis male / 29 / black & mexican / bi 

5′4″

lived in mexico with his mother who led a drug cartel and, after the initial zombie outbreak, his mother led a bandit group w/ the same people 

eventually became uncomfortable with his group’s methods of survival, stole some guns, and a VW minibus (which would later be the miracle merge’s main form of transportation), and left for the US to see his dad and his family (parents divorced when he was a child)

met up with the miracle merge very later on like alex; maybe 10 months into the apocalypse

skilled marksmanship and knowledge of guns 

likes wearing dark lipstick 

constantlytugging on a necklace with a pendant sewn from pale green leather and engravedwith a violin (from a body that was looted from his previous group)

has a lisp and an artificial right hand which was lost to a drug deal gone wrong

eventually becomes boyfriends with dr. li 

alex rocha (the interpreter) 

genderfluid / 26 / brazilian / bi 

5 ft tall / chubby / heterochromatic (blue and brown) / unibrow / thick auburn shoulder length hair usually ponytailed / light olive skin 

hypersensitive sense of smell, hearing, sight, etc. which is why they’re often tasked with scavenging along w/ peregrine 

was an ESL teacher in nevada 

they are “the interpreter” bc of their fluency in various languages (ASL, Spanish, Portuguese, Mandarin, Japanese, German, Navajo) - this makes it useful for times when the miracle merge encounters groups who speak a language other than English 

other than their hypersensitive senses and language abilities, they don’t have many talents useful in the apocalypse

this makes the others in the groups very protective of them so alex is def the baby of the group, but also the mom lmao 

carries most of the group’s needed supplies

met up with the rest of the miracle merge last

“you ever notice how ever since the contamination hit, the world somehow lost all its color? i like to think that we’re the light to bring everything back to life.” PURE

aaand that’s the miracle merge. they’re called that bc it’s a miracle that they’ve survived, been brought together, and fostered these kinds of relationships in the middle of a deadly apocalypse. and i love the alliteration.

i love zombies and zombie media so. kudos to you if you read this far and thank u sm for being so interested lmao. i am totally free to talk more, there’s definitely more to these characters that i didn’t include in this post. 

[imjustthemechanic]

The Stone Knight

Part 1/? - Two Statues Part 2/? - A Curious Interview Part 3/? - John Doe Part 4/? - Escape Attempt Part 5/? - Making the News Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - More Impossible Part 8/? - The Shield Thieves Part 9/? - Reality Sinks In Part 10/? - Preparing a Quest Part 11/? - The Marvelous History of Sir Stephen Part 12/? - Uninvited Guests Part 13/? - So That’s What It Does Part 14/? - The What and the Where Part 15/? - Gearing Up

Ain’t no party like a party with Black Widow’s personal arsenal.

That was a terribly awkward spot in the conversation, so it was a relief on multiple levels when Sir Stephen suddenly shouted, “this is it!”

Everybody looked up to see Sir Stephen burst out of the library room with the book in his hands.  There were a few of the post-its sticking out of the pages, but he ignored them all as he set it down on Sue's desk and reverently unfolded one of the big maps.  It depicted an ellipse with eight extant stones and dotted outlines to show where Lau's expedition had found evidence of four more that were now gone.  The one that had once been at the focus had fallen down and broken in two, and another dotted line showed where Lau believed the one across from it on the long axis had once been much bigger.

Everybody crowded around to look, and Natasha read off the caption. “L'anneau à Cracnesse, sur l'île de Flotta.”  The Ring at Kracness, on the island of Flotta.

Carter was already typing it in to google.  “Okay... according to Wikipedia, Kracness Henge on the island of Flotta is one of the oldest known stone circles in the British Isles.  It is believed to date from around 3500 BC, making it a thousand years older than the pyramids at Gizeh.  The henge forms part of the Heart of Neolithic Orkney World Heritage Site, and is looked after by Historic Scotland as a scheduled monument.”  She looked at Nat.  “Meaning nobody's allowed to dig it up.”

“Meaning you need permission to dig it up,” Nat corrected.  “So if the Grail's buried there and they try, we can have them arrested.”  How well that would work when the offenders were a kobold and a resurrected sorcerer, she was not entirely sure, and the others looked likewise dubious.  “We have to assume that if we can find this, they can, too, so in order to be there ahead of them we'd better get going.”

“Should we not seek permission to be there?” asked Sir Stephen.

“Nah,” said Nat.  “That takes months.”

Knowing Sue would be upset if it were left lying around, Natasha carefully put the book in the 'to be shelved' basket under the library table before they left.  As they descended in the elevator back to the ground floor, Dr. Wilson cleared his throat.

“Not to be that guy,” he said.  “But if we're not actually allowed to dig the Grail up, how are we gonna make sure Totenkopf doesn't get his hands on it.”

“By killing him,” said Sir Stephen grimly.

“Oh?  That easy, is it?” asked Dr. Wilson.

“If it is true, in any sense, that we were both turned to stone, then our duel is unfinished,” said Sir Stephen.  “I have my doubts whether there is any shred of honour in the man, but if there is, he will want to finish it as much as I.”

“That could be a problem when your sword's still in an evidence locker in Inverness,” DI Carter realized.  “They'll have set all that aside while they try to figure out what the hell went on in that room.”

“Then we'll just have to get them out,” Natasha decided, “and the rest of us will have to arm ourselves, too.”  She considered her companions.  “Dr. Wilson, you were in the military.  You must know how to handle a firearm.  Carter obviously has her service weapon, and I've got some stuff stashed away at my place.  But Sir Stephen's gonna need his own stuff.”  She didn't doubt he would be a quick study with a gun, but he might be a little too eager for anybody else's tastes.

“How are we going to get it?” asked DI Carter as the elevator doors opened.  “We can't just walk in here and ask for it.  I seem to remember a conversation about how not even the Queen can do that.”

“I'm a Russian spy, remember?” asked Nat, deliberately doing a stagey, exaggerated accent.  “I'll get the shield before we leave here, and the rest of the gear in Inverness.”  They headed out to the car park.

Rushman cleared his throat.  “I can shoot,” he said.  “I go duck hunting, remem... I mean.  I go duck hunting,” he repeated.

It occurred to Natasha that in the alternate reality that existed in this man's head, he might very well have been the one who taught her to use a gun.  Had the two of them bonded by sitting in blinds together on rainy days, sharing hot chocolate and body heat while they waited for a bird to get within range?  The mental picture was wistfully sweet, at the same time as it made Nat shudder – if she thought like that too much, she was going to start believing in it.  That was the reason people preferred the beautiful lies, after all.  They were just so much more comfortable than the ugly truths hiding behind them.

Anyway, so long as there was a ghost of a chance that Zola either was Rushman or had created him to mess with her, Nat wasn't going to trust him with a gun.  “We'll see,” she said.

Getting Sir Stephen's shield was no problem at all.  After Dr. Hughes had left for the evening, Nat simply slipped into her lab, picked a couple of locks, and slid it out of the safe.  It was wrapped in plastic to keep it from being contaminated by other sources of DNA, and for a moment Nat felt a pang of regret.  She'd wanted to be done with things like destroying evidence and hiding the truth, and yet here she was, doing exactly that, even if not quite for the reasons she might once have.  Maybe if she thought of it as serving the concept of truth rather than any one truth in particular.  After all, at the rate they were going, it might not be long before 'truth' didn't even mean anything anymore.

She unwrapped the plastic.  The stone replica of the shield that had appeared as part of the statue had been huge and thick and looked like it must weigh a ton.  The real thing, though of the same dimensions, was feather-light.  Its leather skin had been painted blue and white, with a star in the center.  Silver-plated rivets around the edge and an embellished boss in the centre, both just barely beginning to tarnish, held the leather in place, and on the back were the two straps for the bearer's arm, fixed to a wooden strut.  The sagas, Nat recalled, described shields like this as being made from linden wood.  Was this one, or had the Lady of the Lake provided Sir Stephen with something else altogether?

Before she left the Life Sciences building, Natasha did one more thing.  She stopped by the office to slide something into Dr. Hughes' mail slot – a bubble envelope containing two swabs with DNA samples, and a short note asking for a paternity test.  At this point is was a little hard to believe that science would actually have any answers for her, but part of an answer would do.

Back at the car where the others were waiting, Natasha presented the shield to Sir Stephen.  It felt like an oddly ceremonial moment, standing there with this medieval object in her hands – an impression that was only reinforced when Sir Stephen reached out hungrily for it, then held it at arm's length to look at as thought it were a long-lost love.

“Thank you,” he said gravely, and put it on his arm.

Nat did a bit of a double-take, as if she had to check and make sure that he was still dressed in a t-shirt and jeans that belonged to Dr. Wilson, still had a little bald patch where the surgeons at Raigmore had sewn up the gash in his face.  He was, and he did, and yet for some reason it didn't matter.  With that shield on his arm, Sir Stephen of Rogsey was a warrior.

“Next stop, Six Burnett Road,” said DI Carter as they climbed into the car.  “I'm really not looking forward to submitting my case reporton all this.”

“Not quite yet,” said Nat.  “I told you, we've gotta stop by my place first.

“Are you all right with coming along?” Dr. Wilson asked Rushman. “You didn't exactly sign up for this, and I have a feeling we're about to break some laws we didn't even know existed.”

Rushman shrugged.  “If I don't exist, they'll have a hard time prosecuting me,” he pointed out.

“I guess that's one way to look at it,” Dr. Wilson agreed, but it was hard to say whether he were interpreting the statement as a joke – or indeed, if Rushman had meant it as one.

Natasha's flat could be entered directly from the street, which was a major part of the reason she'd chosen it – it facilitated getting in and out at odd hours of the night without disturbing the neighbours.  It was certainly useful now, when she wouldn't have wanted to explain why she, normally a loner, had four people with her.  She tuned on the light, revealing a very ordinary-looking kitchen with a bouquet of dusty fake daffodils on the table and a slightly shabby poster of Degas' La Classe de Danse on the wall.  She leaned over the sink to shut the blinds, then turned to pull the fridge out from the wall and reveal the hidden compartment behind it.

“Need some help with that?” Rushman asked.

“No,” said Nat.  She got it out, unplugged it, and opened the hidden door to reveal a row of meticulously maintained Soviet assault rifles.

“I'm, uh, guessing you don't have a license for those,” DI Carter observed, as Nat began pulling things out.

“You can arrest me later,” Nat promised.  She handed the first rifle to Dr. Wilson, who immediately began checking it – his military training made it as natural as breathing.  Natasha nodded approvingly and grabbed a second weapon for Carter.

“Is all that really necessary?” asked Rushman, watching with wide eyes.  He must be wondering what on earth his little girl had gotten herself into.

“We're in a race against time with a guy who can blow up a building with his mind,” Natasha replied.  “I don't think there's such a thing as over-prepared.”  She grabbed a third weapon for herself, then a fourth just in case one got damaged, and began piling up boxes of ammunition.  “I've got a red and black sports back in the bedroom closet tha's got a plce for these,” she said. “Somebody wanna go find it for me?”

“I know the one you mean,” said Rushman.  “I'll get it.”

“It's the door on the...” Nat began, but he'd already left the room, as if he knew exactly where he was going.  A moment later he was back with the bag in his hands.  He'd known exactly where it was, she thought.  Of course he had, he'd been here before.  That was what Nat had told people when she'd taken the flat, that she didn't need help because her father was flying over with her stuff.

“Thanks,” she said.  Nat unzipped the bag and opened the pockets she'd sewn into the bottom to hold weapons and ammo.  “You guys can have something to eat if you want.  I'm gonna pack a few other things before we head out.”  Who knew when, or if, she'd be back again?

“What kind of other things?” Carter asked suspiciously.

“Clothes,” said Natasha dryly.  “Toothpaste.  Tampons.  That kind of thing.”

“Ah.”  Carter nodded, both relieved and disappointed.

Natasha did her packing, trying to keep in mind that even in the summer the Orkney Islands were likely to be cold and stormy.  As she did she began to be able to smell something... onions?  Puzzled, she peeked around the corner into the kitchen, and found that somebody had pushed the fridge back into place, and now Rushman had pasta on the stove and Dr. Wilson was cutting up vegetables.

“You're cooking?” asked Nat.

Rushman smiled at her.  “I figured I might as well do something useful,” he said.  “Do you like spaghetti?”

The hopeful way he said it made her want to grit her teeth.  He wanted her to like spaghetti, because he was looking for something in her of the daughter he remembered.

“It depends on the spaghetti,” said Nat.  “I'll give it a try. Let me wash my hands and I'll be right in to help.”  Getting directly involved would be the easiest way to make sure she could intervene if it turned out to be a plot to poison them or something. As was washing her hands, for that matter – Nat kept her poisons under the bathroom sink, and she wanted to make sure they hadn't been touched.

They hadn't, and as Nat closed the cupboard and got up again, she could hear Rushman talking in the kitchen.

“I had no idea how to cook when I was younger,” he admitted. “After Kathy got sick, I got to realize that Nat and I couldn't have McDonald's every night, so I actually went and took a cooking course at night school, just so I could get it right.”

Natasha turned on the faucet to drown out the voices, and stared in the mirror as she washed her hands.  Rushman did look like he could be her father, she thought.  The two of them had the same blue eyes, the same eyebrows, the same chin.  It made her wonder which was worse: the idea that this was all a conscious lie before he betrayed them, or that he really did have this entire lifetime in his head that had never happened, in which he could show up in Natasha's office and say hi, Ginger Snap, and she would run into his arms.

In the end she couldn't decide.  Both, in their own way, were equally terrifying.

[eirenical]

AH, YAY, I’m glad you liked it @elenothar​! :D Since it was your gentle prodding that got me to start putting it down on paper.  ^_^

‘no one can let Wu Xie go, not even the people actively trying to kill him‘

...TRUTH.  SERIOUSLY.  XD

And, yeah, Wu Xie really does swing wildly between oblivious and observant and now that I’ve met him in TLT1, that is starting to make much more sense, too.  XD  But yeah, this is one of those cases where it’s swinging more towards ‘observant, but maybe if i don’t say anything, it will go away.’  ;D  Because I got the distinct impression during the entire back half of TLTR that HDF and WX were sharing some pretty intense and knowing looks.  Like, there was a lot unspoken there and most of it had to do with feelings and reconciliations and regrets, so Wu Xie is Very Much Aware that Huo Daofu doesn’t hate him nearly as much as he professes to, but it doesn’t matter because he’s dying.  And now he’s NOT and it’s a Whole Thing and maybe if he just doesn’t say anything, then neither will Huo Daofu and he won’t have to deal with the massive pile of awkward building up there.  ^_^

But YES, I absolutely intend to keep working on it, but unless I get it done in the next four days... (unlikely) ...it may have to wait a while.  Because teaching summer classes are INTENSE.  :P  But it WILL get written!  Especially as there are apparently quite a few more people interested than I thought there would be.  XD

(And @xcziel​, gonna respond to your tags under a cut because this is already getting very long.  XD)

#i am a HUGE fan of the 'huo daofu is wu xie's ex' fanon and i love everything about this#but did their break-up occur before or after the bronze gate??? does huo daofu even know 'not-pining' wu xie?#bc i think he might be surprised by a wu xie who isn't wounded either emotionally *or* physically?#this is just too good#everyone being sympathetic bc ofc who *hasn't* had a fixation on wu xie and huo daofu internally like 'but he was *mine*'#'and now he's *his* and we all know wu xie has a big heart but ...' thinks the man who followed his ex through hell#caring for him the whole way - like *who's* got a big heart huo daofu? oh you're just a hard-hearted curmudgeon huh? riiight#SUCH bones/kirk/spock vibes - i bet huo daofu can even do the eyebrow thing#i am dying to know what happens bc my crack!brain wants wu 'what me talk about things like a mature human?' xie#to keep acquiring weird and stupid injuries as a dumbass way of persuading huo daofu to talk to him - casually trying to chat#as he gets sewn up or dosed or something while huo daofu inside is just like 'how is this my life' and 'he can't realize how cruel it is#to make me keep *touching* him right?' until finally xiaoge has enough and is just like 'he's getting injured bc of you' and then to#wu xie goes 'you can't make huo daofu treat you anymore stop it' in his minimalist communication style and they're both stricken#and upset and finally he just drags wu xie to huo daofu's place - he answers the door like 'where is he hurt?' - and shoves them both#in like one room and blocks the door like 'talk'#bc only wu xie would be using like insect stings or minor skull fractures as awkward 'date' attempts and xiaoge needs him#in one piece when he gets back from this next trip! huo daofu with wu xie in his arms watching him go: ????#wu xie turning to him hopefully like: 👀💖?!!#but GOD this gorgeous prose with all the familiarity and unspoken understandings the quiet heartache it is a whole different level#i went back up to re-read again and just ... his little moment of sort of wistfulness and rue and then getting up to#keep soldiering on despite it all - that's *very* reminiscent of wu xie himself - a way they're alike underneath it all#i swear one of the fandom's mottos should be 'dmbj: so many ships - never enough time' (via @xcziel​)

First of all, I LOVE IT when people write me novels in their tags.  XD  Being an excessive tag writer myself, I APPRECIATE THE ENTHUSIASM.. :D  :D  :D

First off, a disclaimer: I have read exactly 2 1/3 of the translated novels, watched almost all of TLT1 (I think I have 1 1/2 episodes left?), and most of TLTR (I have about 10 episodes left or so), and I know VIRTUALLY NOTHING ELSE about DMBJ canon.  I am flying totally blind here for everything that happens in between TLT1 and TLTR except for the most broad of strokes.  (I know... there IS a Bronze Gate?  And Xiao-ge was gone for A Long Time behind it in Wu Xie’s place?  And that is... that is really about it.  I know absolutely nothing else.  OTZ)  So, I’m probably not going to go THAT much into detail about those events.  BUT, I’m envisioning that Wu Xie and Huo Daofu’s entire relationship was within the span of time that Xiao-ge was gone.  And that maybe this was a bit of a rebound/pining-for-someone-else kind of a situation on Wu Xie’s part and that’s a good part of why they exploded into a bad breakup.  I’m also thinking that, as you pointed out, on some level they’re just TOO similar, and that kind of thing is always going to chafe just a little bit.

There is going to be a little bit of “Wu Xie gets hurt and Huo Daofu has to come back to take care of him” going on because I am a SUCKER for hurt/comfort and because that’s how Huo Daofu fell half back in love with him during TLTR to begin with, but it’s not going to happen as something done on purpose.  Because when Huo Daofu said he was going to wish Wu Xie well and just... walk away, he actually *meant it*.  And Wu Xie is so glad to not have ended up in the middle of a Very Awkward Situation that he just lets it go.

...it IS Xiao-ge who’s going to be the one to get involved to bring them together, though.  Just... a bit more subtly than that.  ;D  I HAVE A PLAN.  I PROMISE.

But awwwwwwww, I’M SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT and that you liked it enough to immediately re-read it.  ^_____^  I am very, very flattered and seriously thank you so much for telling me so!  :D  :D  :D  I am inordinately excited to get back to work on this.  Now if I can just finish wrestling my summer syllabus into shape... MAYBE I’LL EVEN HAVE TIME TO DO IT.  XD

*drops by to yell about "post-canon Huo Daofu and Xiao Ge… time-sharing Wu Xie"*

AHAHAHA-- RIGHT. So, @elenothar when I told you I wanted to hold on to this ask and let the fic percolate, I didn't think it would then CONSUME MY THOUGHTS for the next several days until I had to get some of it down on paper. O_o;;; So, this is shaping up to be longer than originally intended, and this bit is still on the rough side, but here's the first (1200+ word) scene? To gauge interest, maybe? (...oh who am I kidding; interest or no interest, I'm gonna write it anyway. XD) Enjoy? ^_^

*

It was quiet. The party that had raged and roared like a living beast for hours before now slumbered. Huo Daofu threaded his way carefully through the sleeping and unconscious bodies it had left in its wake to take up a careful perch on one of the few remaining upright pieces of furniture. As he settled in, the bench's occupant lifted his bottle to clink aimlessly against his, then briefly raised it before taking a pull. Huo Daofu obediently took a sip from his own bottle; there was little enough left in it.

Lowering his bottle, Huo Daofu let it dangle loosely from his hand as he leaned over to brace his elbows on his knees. It had been a long time since he'd indulged himself this way. A very long time. Beside him, Wang Pangzi leaned back to rest his elbows on the table behind them, tipping his head back. He was smiling. "Now *that* was a party."

The corners of Huo Daofu's lips pulled up in an answering smile before he even realized they had. They'd been doing that a lot lately. Smiling without his express permission.

They used to do that often. Before.

The smile fell from Huo Daofu's lips as though it had been washed away by a bucket of cold water. He'd been down this road before. He'd been down this road before, and it had only led him to heartbreak. He had no desire to travel it again now that he knew where it led. He looked up, gaze catching on the only other upright person in the room. Zhang Qiling. Xiao-ge. Wu Xie's Menyouping. Wu Xie's—

Huo Daofu tore his gaze away, closing his eyes to the sight and finishing off his bottle in one long pull. By the time he had finished, Pangzi's leg was a heavy line of warmth against his own, his outstretched knee lazily nudging into him. He laughed. "Now, where have I seen that look before, I wonder?"

Keep reading

[theprettysettersclub]

@nyciel @distinguisheddelusions @satoristardust (bc yall showed some interest)

ok so ocs and shit, divided into subsections

my single haikyuu oc, kimura shiro:

oujiyama’s best friend and vice captain

he’s 100% the bad influence and can convince the first years to do a lot of stuff

he’s oujiyama’s best wingman

also is a super good friend and teases but only good naturedly

he’s an only child

he’s good at planning/plotting

i don’t really have much for him lmao

amari and the witch

the witch:

well, she’s a witch

mostly grows plants and brings them into town to sell

when she goes into town, she wears a heavy cloak with a large hood

she wears the hood to cover up the fact that she isn’t human and doesn’t have eyes

(she could just make an illusion, but it’s a lot of work)

always wears a white glove on her left hand

typically wears a long skirt that’s made of one long strip of cloth, but coiled around and sewn together

if she ever gets into a fight it uncoils to give her height and help her jump

https://ihearpopcorn.tumblr.com/post/162755104704/a-compilation-of-my-witch (also i drew her)

amari:

she’s a shadow demon

she’s very gay for the witch and doesn’t know she’s not human

lives in the town the witch sells her plants in

also buys a plant from her every time the witch comes into town

wears a large hat for shade because the sun kinda hurts

usually wears things with long sleeves because forming hands is really hard

also the witch doesn’t know she’s not human either

she loves flowers a lot

she’s also kinda prone to accident

https://ihearpopcorn.tumblr.com/post/162755144364/this-is-amari-shes-made-of-shadows-and-low-key (i’ve drawn her too)

Silver and Gold

https://theprettysettersclub.tumblr.com/post/161038452537/quixoticmew-mango-nectar-thehibiscusthief

Noemi:

genderfluid and doesn’t really care about which pronouns people use but they prefer they/them

somewhat lazy and literally will not do extra work if possible

hates responsibility

has a crush on selena at the beginning of the story

they’re writing the book because they were thrown into everything without warning and they know they won’t  be able to warn their successor

trusts selena with their life even through everything that happens, even if they say they don’t

really loves mischief

perpetual daydreamer

weapon of choice: bow

is always in danger because she can do something that others can’t

the next Silver

Selena:

noemi’s best friend since forever

has much more of a sense of adventure than noemi

loves to tease noemi and is oblivious to noemi’s crush on her

weapon of choice: sword

does some Things in the future that are Questionable

trusts noemi with her life for a period of time, but that ends

both she and noemi can only be killed by one specific sword wielded by someone they trust

the next Gold

Silver, as they are in the beginning:

Noemi’s predecessor

they’re actually very similar to noemi in personality, but Silver has more energy

also prefers to use a bow

noemi and selena never actually see their face (its the same with Gold, actually)

Gold, as they are in the beginning:

Selena’s predecessor

again, similar to selena in personality but not quite as close as silver and noemi

gold is louder than selena

they also get irritated far more quickly

prefers the sword as well

Kiera:

they’re the one that encouraged noemi to write everything down

won’t actually show up in the story for a while

they’re very protective of noemi and don’t really like selena

taller than noemi and likes to tease them about it

the first Bronze

weapon of choice: throwing knives

aaa i don’t really want to say a lot about any of these five bc i don’t want to spoil anything by accident

i’ve also got 3 more but i can’t find the notebook with stuff written about them in it

[x-avantgarde]

SHINee World V - Hong Kong Experience!

So hello everyone owo I went to Shinee's World V, Hong Kong stop's concert!! (This is a Kpop post, I know but I will be back for vkei in the future! So please stay tuned!!) :D I bought the tickets really late orz and so before I start, I would like to apologize because I don't really know SHINee that well (I know them but I wasn’t a Shawol or anything) and I went because my mom likes Taemin (and SHINee) a lot XDD  (beware of this long ass post haha (it’s 2000+ words orz)

So we arrived at the venue at around 2pm? The merchandise opens at noon but I had this lesson that ends at noon so... We had lunch before we went to the venue (and the place is super far lol, but it's super close to the airport). Me and my mom took the airport express line from Kowloon (Elements?) to Asia World Expo and it was actually pretty quick (~20mins?). But the fare was super expensive OTL (though you get a discount if you show them your concert ticket).

There were A LOT of people lining up for the merch when I got there, but I wanted to get the light stick so badly (because I don't have one? XD) so I just lined up (like whatever haha). The line was super long, the merch was outside but the lines looped into the area where the standing went and waited. Around 30mins in the line I met people from my school lmao XD (so awkward bc we're actually not close?).

There were these people who approached us and asked us when we were in the line about whether we wanted light sticks or not (because they had "a bunch"). It was super fishy so I didn't get any, there were many cases in Kpop concerts where people sold fake light sticks :/// The official ones sold at 80HKD each but those people sold it at 60HKD each :////

After approximately two hours and fifteen minutes, I finally managed to get the merchandise :D Around halfway through the line, the staff gave us this sheet to write down what we wanted. In the end, I spent around 500HKD lmAO. I told myself I would only get the light stick and that was it, but you know what? I ended up getting an Onew fan, Onew key chain and these postcards (rip my money haha but it was so worth it). The Onew key chain is super duper cute!! owo (and yes my favourite member is Onew ouo)

It was around 4pm when we finished getting our merch, so me and my mom decided to go into this (kinda bad) cafe / restaurant place to sit down and eat something. I didn't eat anything because I literally just ate lunch three hours ago X"D Around 4:15, people were starting to line up. There are two places where you can go into the venue, one is on the ground floor, (for people in standing (who already got in) and people from the seating (block 5-13 (aka every block)) in the first rows. (A-M)). I was in block 10 row L so I had to get in on the ground floor.

Around 5:00 we went to line up and get ready to get in. The security was super strict and there were these Japanese girls in front of me who got cut off because they found a camera (but the girl said she went to disneyland and that's why she bought it). They took super long T___T until they finally managed to check my god damn bag. I bought a small-ish backpack but they literally took out everything T______T I understand that they didn't want any cameras inside the venue and stuff, but... uhhh really???

Me and my mom managed to get in, and we walked up the stairs (finally) and found our seats!! :))) On our seats, there was a pack, which included an balloon, a fan (double sided with a member's face) and this banner in Korean //orz what does it mean haha//. I got Key's fan so it's okay /but ugly sobbing because I didn't get Onew T_T/.

It was supposed to start at 6pm but they were super late (because Taemin had this earpiece problem so he kept apologizing during the introduction / first MC T___T (like CHILD ITS OK (let me give you a hug lmao). When the fans sat down, it felt super unreal, and it all felt like a dream. When the lights dimmed and we started screaming and chanting, "SHINEE! SHINEE! SHINEE!" They played a video (to our disappointment haha).

After that Shinee cAME OUT :DD They started with the song Sherlock and it's super good XD But I didn't warm up yet so I was kinda stiff and I didn't scream and all. (For some reason, I felt super awkward). But I was waving my light stick, just enjoying Shinee performing :))

The next song was Married To The Music and I was starting to get more hyped :) I lowkey sang along XDD I think they came out in suits or something (i forgot orz). Then the next song was Juliet (and the chorus is so catchy?!?!) After these three songs, it was MC timeeee! ^^ they started talking about how they haven't been to Hong Kong for a long time (around four years??) so they were really happy to be back. Key mentioned about how HK food was really good or something haha.

(Starting from this part, the order of the songs are going to be all messed up). They changed clothes somewhere after the MC or something like that (they changed way too often!!). I got more warmed up as Reply came up :DD Everyone sang along to it (and dude it's so good hahaha). You know how people would scream when a member's part comes up? That was me when Onew's part came up XD But it felt like I was the only Onew fan in my section because when Onew sings there were nearly NO ONE screaming T__T (It felt lowkey awkward because I would only be hearing my screams hahaha).

Then midway they changed into casual and I swear, Key looks SO GOOD in real life. During Lucifer, I was so hyped hahahaha. Key took off his white jacket because it was "too stiff and too hard to dance in it", and also he was like, "I look better without it". OMG XDD And guess what was underneath his jacket? A grey sleeveless shirt. SLEEVELESS. HE LOOKED SO GOOOD OMG. XD In the middle of the setlist /forgot which song orz/ he made the hand heart and it got onto the mini screen on the side. I got /shot/ in the heart owo.

THIS IS THE HIGHLIGHT OF THE CONCERT FOR ME HAHA. OKAY. During some song, Minho winked and gave this smooch towards the crowd OMG. AND IT WAS LIKE WINK THEN AIR KISS. /DIES/ WHEN HE DID THAT, I LITERALLY SPAZZED OUT ON MY SEAT HAHAHA, I WAS LIKE 'WHAT IS LIFE?' (He is so extra?!?! X"D)

In the middle of the setlist, (ESPECIALLY DURING Everybody), I got super duper hyped and screamed like crazy whenever it was Onew's part X"D (and also when their choreography was super cool). LIKE WHO CARES, I'M HERE TO HAVE FUN BITCHES XD During Everybody, these Japanese girls (again XD ikr, they have a lot of Japanese fans haha), also got super hyped XDDD Even though we weren't supposed to film, no one honestly gives a shit? (including me lmao). I filmed for around 30s in total XD (just to document the hype and it's the only thing I can hold onto after the concert T_T (other than the merch)).

They also performed Why So Serious, 1 of 1, So Amazing, View (that was aWESOME), Ring ding dong (the crowd was so high XD (including me hahaha)), Prism, Feel Good (CLIMAX OF THE CRAZINESS HAHA), Shift (don't really remember anything XD (except the fact they performed this song). The atmosphere was so awesome!! :))

In around the first quarter? Two members changed first, then the others went. Key, Minho and Taemin stayed first X"D Minho or Key was like, "I'm wondering if any of the members off stage are eating right now (referring to Onew and Jonghyun)" XD Then Onew and Jonghyun came back, wearing silk material / soft / shiny fabric clothes :DD it was so cool haha. (I think they also performed Dream Girl but I don't remember what happened T_T).

(I'm listening to SHINee's songs while typing this up so ahahahahaha) They sang a lot of the slower songs during that silk material clothing part XD (whatever you call it haha). Onew and Jonghyun also sang a duet-- Please Don't Go. This song was so touching and T_T //feels// Onew's voice was so sweet <333 /melts/ (Jonghyun's voice is also good <33) Hopefully Jonghyun's not sick or anything because he struggled a lot with hitting the high notes T___T especially during the duet and Replay QAQ

During Feel Good, oh my... oh my... The lyrics in the chorus, "I can make you feel good" X"D Everyone sang along in that part and I was kind of hesitant but I GAVE UP. So I also sang along and that was sooooo fun. This was one of the songs I like hahahaha. Though I wished they performed Tell Me What To Do because Jonghyun's voice in that song is GREAT.

There were a lot of Key and Taemin fans hahaha. Whenever it would be Key or Taemin's part, girls in my section would be screaming ahahah (like me in Onew's part X"D). And Onew's smile just melts my heart ouo Taemin also did a solo performance, he performed Sayonara Hitori (in Korean). His costume was so cool (there were these ribbons(?) that are sewn onto his sleeves, so whenever he spreads his arms it would look kind of like wings :D There were also these long stripes of red fabric hanging from the ceiling. There were also smoke(?) in the floor to make it even more dreamy <33 When my mom heard that song, she shook my arm excitedly and said, "This is my favourite song from Taemin!!" /lmao/ It was super cool and I enjoyed every single second of it /and I lowkey sang along because it's so good hahaha/

Skipping to Aside!! It was actually when we were supposed to blow up the balloons (which had led lights inside of them). I struggled a lot (because honestly I've never successfully blown a balloon before... until now XD) but the crowd looked super good because of the flashy balloons :DD Even Jonghyun was thankful for what the fans had prepared :DD (because he mentioned it in the ending speech).

Skip skip skip, time for chanting the encore! The fans actually started singing happy birthday (in Korean) to Shinee (as it's nearly their 9th anniversary!) ^_^ Every time we want to start over again (by singing happy birthday), we would all laugh as we don't know when we should start singing again haahaha (if it makes any sense XD). They came out in the moving carts (LIKE FINALLY?!) and the crew played So Amazing in the background. I really wanted to get one of their signed balls (that sounds wrong LMFAO /i'm sorry/) but I didn't manage to get one T_T because Onew and Jonghyun actually tried throwing some to my section but they didn't manage to throw it pass the crew (bc the crew was sandwiched between my section + the moving carts) OTL

/HIGHLIGHT NUMBER 2/ Since Minho was the only one on his cart, he actually stopped in front of my section (directly in front of me) and did the hand heart (like the one you make the heart with your arms + head??) towards my section XD I cried ahaha, and you know what? Before I knew it, MY HANDS AUTOMATICALLY DID AN ARM/HAND HEART BACK TO HIM. HE WAS SMILING SO BRIGHTLY OH MY GOSH. (No one in front of me did a heart back so it's actually possible he might have seen me in the corner of his eyes /dies from happiness/ /but it's okay if he didn't actually see me because giving a heart towards my section is already good enough <333/)

They did the ending speech and they reminded us to support Key's new drama <33 Shinee also told us that they will be back soon (isn't that what all the overseas idols say lmao). And it ended! I was so sad T___T they played a video (or some MV /i forgot/) and in the end the screen said "Thank you and love you" XD It was really touching but my mom had to ruin the moment and said, "Yeah, more like thank you and love your money" LMAO.

It was such a great experience and I have definitely fell in love with Shinee :D (who wouldn't if they attended Shinee's concert haha). It was so different from Visual Kei's lives and I might be doing a comparison in the future so please stay in touch with me! <3

[voxplusherizes]

I’ve made a big mistake

So, for those of you who don’t know, I love ball joint dolls. I love them, i think they're such beautiful pieces of artwork and i admire every one of them for their craftsmanship. Ever since i first discovered them in a little magazine thing my middle school handed out sometimes, I've wanted my own. I wanted one of those big, 70 cm ones, to make my character ZYT.fuck, i tried to make one with polymer clay once (it failed spectacularly) That desire hasn't really faded, i don't think, although i'd prolly be more inclined to make Erasii or XaE if i had the opportunity today.

I think that's why i eventually began to dabble in sewn dolls; if i couldn't have BJDs of my characters, I'd make my own the only way i knew how.

I do, technically, ""own"" a BJD. a 45-ish cm female from Dollzone. I bought her used from someone selling her, and i jumped at this opportunity because it was the cheapest i knew of to get a doll at the time (she was $300, the price the person had original paid for the doll, which i hadn't minded forking over since the doll was worth it.) and it landed right on my doorstep, practically.

Its because of this pre-ownership, however, that she never really felt like she was mine. I hadn't touched her to remove her clothing or wig or change her eyes for the longest time because i felt i was ruining her. Despite the fact that i now 100% owned this doll. when my attempts to give her an outfit failed bc i was a dumb child who couldn't sow worth shit, i put her back in her box, and she was eventually shoved into the attic. for years.

Recently, this feeling has faded enough for me to feel comfortable (albeit still really bad) removing her faceup. This doll i'm talking about is Zazanna, whom was recently renamed and redesigned. however, despite all of this....

she still doesn't feel like she's mine.

and this makes my heart ache because i should be content to have her, i wanted a ball joint doll and i have one so why can't i just be happy with that?

When i was attempting to figure out what model she was, i stumbled onto a distributor site for BJDs. they didn't have any of the type of doll i was looking for, so i don't know why i stayed, but i did, and....like a moron, i looked through the dolls.

And fell in love with one.

one that i can't have. because it's expensive for my literal broke ass.

I don't think i can describe how agonizing this love i have for this doll is. I've wanted things with all my soul before, yes, I've felt like i needed something "with all my heart and soul" but damn do i regret tossing around such words so carelessly now. I've "desperately wanted" gaming consoles. I've "desperately needed" certain games. I've "needed" art supplies like fabric, clay, resin, paints. Fuck, i used all of those exact terms when begging for my snek baby, Raspberry (to be fair, i think i wanted raspberry more than this doll, at the time. I fell in love with him instantly too.)

But this desire for this doll is different. its obsessive. the tab for its page is permanently open in my browser and has been for weeks, and i check it daily for no reason besides to see if it randomly decided to become free of charge. i admire the pictures of it constantly. i looked up reviews of it on youtube, google image searched it, picked out a name to give it if, by some miracle, someone decides they want to spend over a hundred dolls on me for a gift.

This doll is different from Zazanna. I don't love Zazanna. she doesn't have an identity. shes not "mine". but i feel like i need to own this doll, that I've already given him his own identity, his own soul. i feel like I've already claimed him, that he's mine and he's precious and he's a thing that I'll treasure. that i want to spend time, energy, and money bringing who i want him to be into reality.

Dolls are special to me. I believe they should be loved and cared for and respected, because they're unique and a lot of effort goes into making them. They're valuable, and deserve to be treated as such. This is why i never bought another BJD besides Zazanna, whom was a fortunate opportunity: i never fell in love with one.

but now i have, and its pain incarnate.

I get obsessive with things. things and hobbies. Because I suffer from depression, very little brings me pleasure or happiness. And so when i find things that i think will make me feel good, I fall for them and i fall hard. it becomes a need, a desperate, selfish need to cling onto anything, any kind of hope, that perhaps this thing will magically cure me and i can feel again. or that doing this hobby will breathe the life back in me. Its a constant, always bouncing from thing to thing yet never staying long enough to actually get good at it or even learn it properly.

Drawing. Writing. Painting. Sculpting. Knitting. Watercolor. Woodburning. Game design. Coding. 3D modeling. Esperanto. Video Games. voice acting. video editing.

Doll customizing is the most recent on a very, very long list. I'm running into, blind and at full steam. and just when I'm halfway through, i know i will crash. and yet i'm doing it anyway. I can't tell if that’s inspiring or just foolish.

Sewing is the only skill that I've stuck with long enough to actually have a visible change in the quality of my work, and I'm proud of that.

The point of this tangent is thus: i can't tell if I've truly fallen in love with a doll for it being a doll and something i simply adore. or if i love it because i think it'll artificially boost my mood for a couple of days if i have it.

....Does it even matter?